ReEragon
by Subieko
Summary: Paolini said, Characters are born of necessity. But what happens when the characters decide THEY should be the ones in charge of the story? Here it is: Eragon...as told by the characters themselves.
1. Preface

Author's Note: This began from a quote from Chris Paolini: "Characters are born out of necessity." Well, I don't know about anyone else, but wherever or whatever my characters are born from, it's not necessity. Here is Eragon, rewritten...according to the whims of the poor, beleagured characters.

Oh, and about the parody category: the bits before and after the actual chapters are the parody part; they're mostly the characters arguing and stuff. The writing of the chapters isn't a parody at all, it really is an alternate version of Eragon.

Enjoy!

Preface

Subieko sat at her computer, sighing morosely. It was busted. Hopelessly, irredeemably busted. _Now_ what was she going to do? She closed her eyes, trying to think of something, anything...

Then she heard the voices.

It was a low murmer of chatter from the next room, the sounds of a very bored group of people. Just like the chatter you hear at the train station when the train is late. Subieko got up and peered around the half-open door. Her jaw dropped.

Inside the room was a motley collection of characters, all from Eragon. But how on earth (or perhaps on Alagaseia) had they gotten there? Normally it was only her own characters that showed up to bother her with ideas for their stories...

"What are you all doing here!?" she said, slamming the door the rest of the way open and stalking into the room, eyes narrowed.

Eragon looked up. "...just waiting."

"Waiting for what, exactly?" Subieko asked. "And why are you doing it in my room?"

Eragon shrugged. "You're reading our book. We're waiting for the next part."

Subieko blinked, taken aback. "Yeah, I'm reading it, but...normally characters only come to bother me when they want me to write about them." A sudden suspicion struck her like a lightning bolt. "Wait--you're not here about some fanfic idea, are you?"

Eragon shook his head. "I don't have any ideas. What about you, Saphira?"

The dragon shook her head and went back to her nap. Next to her, Brom was whistling off-key, staring up at the cieling. Murtagh was on the other side of the room, polishing his sword. Arya was watching him do it, an expression of utter boredom on her face.

"Come on," Subieko said. "At least _one_ of you must have an idea. What do you want to do next in your story?"

They stared at her, faces blank. "What do we...want to do?" Eragon said slowly.

"Yeah. What do you want to do?" Subieko said again.

There was a long, long silence. Subieko tapped her foot, arms crossed. Finally, she could stand it no longer. "Come on, you guys--everyone wants something! There's no need to be embarressed, believe me. You wouldn't believe some of the things my characters come up with..."

"It's not that," said Brom, tapping some tobacco into his pipe. "It's just that we don't want to do things. We just...do them."

Subieko snatched his pipe away at once, giving him a very stern glare. "Don't you know how bad smoking is for your health? And what about the second-hand smoke, huh? You're setting Eragon up for lung cancer someday, you know. I thought you cared about him!"

Brom mumbled something indistinct under his breath. Subieko sighed, relenting. "Look, Brom, don't take it so hard...I'm sorry, all right? Anyway, what do you mean, you just do things? _Why_ do you do them?"

"Because we have to," Murtagh said, looking up from his polishing. "For example, I rescued Eragon from jail because otherwise he would have died, and the plot dictated that we had to cross the desert together. Otherwise none of the events in Eldest would have been set up properly."

Subieko's eyes filled with tears. "You...only do things when the plot needs you to?"

They all nodded.

Subieko sniffed loudly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "But that's--so--s-sad!"

"Why?" Eragon asked, mystified. "Why else would we do things? That's the whole point of characters--they're born of necessity."

Subieko shook her head vigorously. "No, no, you don't understand at all. Characters are born out of...who knows where! They show up to bother authors with their stories until the authors are annoyed enough to write them down."

"But we could never bother our author! He's...well, he's our boss."

"Guys, there wouldn't be a story without you. If you want to go somewhere, you've got to speak up! Murtagh, if you didn't want to help Eragon at the jail, then you should have left. Saphira, if you didn't like being left behind all those times, you should have followed Eragon and Brom into the city! Eragon, if you didn't want to go with Brom without even knowing who he was, you should have refused! And Arya...don't let me even get started with you."

Eragon shrank back, his eyes wide. "But if we did that...there'd be no story at all! Eragon would have been totally different!"

"And we can't challenge our author," Arya put in, giving Subieko a withering glance. "He gave birth to us--we're part of him. We're his daydreams. A daydream has no power over the dreamer."

"Then become real dreams," Subieko said, clenching her fist. "Real dreams drag you around wherever they want, and they don't let you wake up until they're good and ready. Real dreams show us things whether we like it or not! You guys can't just be your author's daydreams forever. You've got to wake up and come to life!"

"But the story's already done," Eragon said. "It's too late for us to do all that...and besides, we don't know how! I bet our author wouldn't be too happy if we started doing whatever we wanted in Empire--it would completely mess up his story."

"It's okay," Subieko said, smiling. She sat down next to Eragon, leaning against Saphira's warm stomach. "Here, everybody gather round."

"What for?" Murtagh said, taking a few wary steps closer.

Subieko pulled out her PC and turned it on. "We're going to make you a new story," she said brightly. "And this time, you get to tell it _your_ way."

"But what if it doesn't turn out well?" Eragon said.

Subieko shrugged. "Why worry? It's not like anyone's going to see it, right? Just take a deep breath, and relax. There's nothing to worry about. And it's not like you're all alone in this--all of your fellow characters are here, and so am I. I'm not such a bad author myself, and at least I'm used to dealing with pesky characters."

_What should we do, Eragon?_ Saphira said.

Eragon hesitated, biting his lip. Then he looked up and met Subieko's eyes for the first time. "All right...we'll do it."

"Great!" Subieko said. Opening up a new document, she put her fingers to the keys and started.

_Eragon_, she wrote. _Told by Chris' characters. Transcribed by Subieko._

"Let the story begin," Subieko said.


	2. Prologue

Author's Note: Whoa--this got way more reviews than I was expecting! (huggles reviewers) Thanks everyone! Glad you enjoyed. And here is the (rewritten) prologue...for now it mostly follows the plot of the book. It should be...shall we..._diverging_ pretty soon, though. Enjoy!

Prologue

_"Okay," Subieko said, "How should we start off? Durza, Arya?"_

_Durza was crouched in the corner; the other characters were staying as far away from him as possible. "This time, can I get a better description? There's got to be more to me than weird hair-and-eye colors and a dented sword!"_

_"Um...no," Subieko said. "Anything else?"_

_"Why not!?" Durza said. "What happened to telling the story the way _we_ wanted it?"_

_Subieko snapped the lid of her PC shut and turned to Durza. "I said you could _tell_ the story, not write it. And I don't feel like writing a huge description of you. If want a completely unnecessary block of text, you write it!"_

_"...fine," Durza muttered. "Can I get some better dialogue, then?"_

_Subieko sighed. "All in good time, Durza. Anyway, don't worry so much about the technical stuff--that's what your author's here for! You guys just concentrate on the plot."_

_The characters nodded. Arya coughed politely. "Would it be possible for me to escape and return to the Varden?"_

_"No!" Eragon said, jumping up from his seat. "If you do that, I can't get the egg, and there's no story at _all_!"_

_"There would _so_ be a story--it just wouldn't be about you!"_

_"But I'm the title character!" Eragon wailed._

_"Both of you, stop it!" Subieko said. "Eragon, you're not in this scene--wait your turn. Now...Durza, what do you think about Arya's suggestion?"_

_"I don't like it," Durza said. "I wouldn't get defeated by one elf! How about this time, I get the egg before she teleports it away!"_

_Eragon opened his mouth to protest, but Subieko clapped a hand over it. "Okay, new rule: you can't control another character's actions--only yours. So, Durza, you can try to steal the egg, but you can't make Arya fail to transport it. Arya, you can try to escape, but you can't make Durza fail to capture you. Whether or not you succeed depends on your own abilities. Got it?"_

_The characters nodded dutifully, growing more dubious about this idea by the minute._

_Durza shifted uncomfortably. "In that case...can I not have the Urgals with me? I have all of this magic, so why would I need them? I want to set a magical trap instead."_

_Subieko nodded encouragingly. "Great, Durza--you're getting the hang of this! Now, Arya, what about y--uh-oh."_

_Everyone whirled around as heavy footfalls announced the arrival of a new character...Galbatorix._

_"What are you all doing here?" he thundered._

_"Er...rewriting the story, sir," Durza said, making himself as small as possible._

_"What!? And you didn't invite me!? I got short-changed the most! I _demand_ to be part of the project!"_

_Subieko grinned broadly. "Sure, Galby--why didn't you say so in the first place?"_

_Galbatorix sat down in one of the chairs. It creaked under his weight, but held. For now, anyway. "All right. Here's my first suggestion--"_

_"Wait," Subieko said. "You're not in this scene. Only characters in the scenes can make suggestions, and they can't control other characters."_

_"But that's my suggestion," Galbatorix said. "I want to be in at least one scene. Preferably a lot more. I want a scene with me giving Durza his orders. And I want a new name. Everyone laughs at this one."_

_Subieko scratched her head. "Well, the scenes, I can work with. I'm afraid you're stuck with the name, though--your creator gave it to you. It's yours now, and you should keep it. It's one of the most precious things an author gives her characters. Or his. Ooo..._Precious Things_! I can't wait to get back to work on it..."_

_"Um...Subieko? What about our story?" Eragon said._

_"Oh--right!" Subieko said, blushing. "Well, I think we're almost ready to start. Galby, I want your scene with Durza to be after Eragon finds the egg--that way we're in suspense about why Durza wanted it and soforth for a while. Everyone else pretty happy with the scene?"_

_"We're happy already--just get started!" Arya said._

_"All right, all right!" Subieko replied. "Okay, here we go..."_

The wind howled through the night like the cry of a wolf. Durza smiled, breathing in the scent of the wild night. It was fitting weather for his success. Hearing the soft pounding of hooves, he realized that his success was much closer at hand than he had thought.

But no matter. It would be over soon.

He peered through the night from his perch in a bare tree. The moon was waning, but it didn't matter to him. He was no puny human, with his sight a slave to the sun. Durza's maroon eyes pierced the shadows, and he spotted his quarry.

Three horses were galloping up the trail, growing closer to him with every passing second. Their elven riders were alert and tense, but they never thought to check the trees for enemies. Durza's smile widened. The fools--they would never know what hit them...

Durza focused on the lead rider. He recognized her at once--a elven warrior-maiden with long dark hair and green eyes. It could only be her, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure. He had suffered and schemed for too long to make any mistakes now.

And there it was in her lap--a small bag, seemingly unimportant. But the woman's eyes kept darting toward it, making sure it was still safe, and Durza knew at once that in that bag was his prize.

They were just ahead of his hiding place now. It was time to act.

Durza leapt down from the tree, drawing his slender blade and landing easily. The horses reared, and their riders struggled to control them as Durza stalked forward, visible even in the dim clearing because of his corpse-pale skin.

"Run!" the woman shouted, and the three wheeled their horses around.

Durza just smirked and raised his hand. "Garjzla!"

A bolt of red lightning shot from his palm and exploded just behind the elves. Their horses went wild, throwing the two guards to the ground. Durza didn't spare them so much as a glance--he would deal with them later. He aimed another bolt at the woman's horse, but she leapt to the ground, rolling to her feet and fleeing into the woods.

Durza didn't lose focus for a moment. He cried out "Boetq istalri!" and the woods burst into flame. Durza's eyes narrowed as he carefully controlled the fire, shaping it into a ring. The woman was trapped now, and his path was clear.

Running lightly through the trees, Durza quickly found the elf. She put on a last burst of speed, but it was too late. Panting, she dropped to her knees and fumbled with the straps of the bag.

"You might as well give yourself up peacefully," Durza said, walking toward her. "You can't defeat me, and you can't escape me now."

The elf ignored him. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a large sapphire stone. She raised it over her head and desperately began chanting.

"NO! Garjzla!" Durza cried frantically, but it was too late. The stone vanished, and the bolt struck only the elf. A faint smile was on her lips even as she collapsed; she had succeeded. It would be safe now...

An inhuman howl echoed through the forest as Durza slammed his sword into a tree and fell to his knees. He had failed...after all of the endless planning, the machinations, after all he had sacrificed...it was too much to bear.

But he had to. Durza got up and went to examine the elf. He knew the stone was gone, but he searched her anyway in the hope that he was somehow mistaken. It was no use—he had lost the stone.

Sighing bitterly, Durza whistled, calling his horse. When it arrived, he tied the woman to the saddle and mounted behind her. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, blending perfectly with Durza's crimson hair. He rode off into the night, knowing and dreading what awaited him.

Behind him, the fires raged on.

_"So? What did you think?" Subieko asked, looking around at the characters._

_Durza shrugged. "It was okay, but isn't it a little short? It was much longer in the book."_

_"Durza, it's the _prologue_. It's supposed to be short. Besides, it says everything it needs to--you capture Arya, the egg vanishes, the woods burn, the end."_

_"But I didn't get as many lines!" Durza said. "In the book I howled, and barked, and stuff...here I just _say_ things all the time."  
"What do you want to be, a pet? People don't bark, Durza. They just say stuff. Besides, we can all tell when you're barking things out just by what you're saying. You're a very expressive person."_

_Durza subsided, consoled, but Arya started up at once. "What about me? You hardly described me at all! What happened to my raven locks and piercing gaze?"_

_Subieko rolled her eyes. "Arya, it's just the prologue. Anyway, we're seeing it all through Durza's eyes, and he doesn't care whether you're beautiful or not, so he doesn't notice it. He just cares that you have the egg. I'll describe how beautiful you are later, when you meet Eragon. Okay?"_

_Arya made a 'hmph' sort of sound and stalked off._

_"Ready for the next scene, everyone? Let's get started!_"


	3. Discovery

Author's Note: Whoa--a crazy numbers of reviews! And alerts! OO I...I am overcome with joy. And thankfulness. Thank you, happy reviewers! Hope I've made you laugh. The plot is still pretty much the same here, although there is a subtle change...fans of the book might notice, but maybe it's not obvious at all, and that's just my mind playing tricks on me again...(laughs). Well, enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 1: Discovery

"_Okay, Eragon…are you ready? Now, I thought we'd start off with a few minor changes—"_

_"Wait," said Eragon. "I thought _I_ got to make the changes."_

_"You do! I'm just making suggestions," Subieko said. "I thought I'd shorten that whole hunting thing, because it really doesn't have to be that long, the important thing is that you get the egg."_

_"Subieko, you keep making the story shorter—soon there won't be any story left!"_

_"Of course there will," Subieko said with a grin. "We have to take stuff out to make room for all the _new_ stuff we're putting in."_

_"Like what?" Eragon said._

_"Like this!"_

Eragon ran a hand through his messy blond hair, gazing up at the clear sky. It was almost nightfall, and he still hadn't caught up to the herd of deer he was tracking. His brown eyes were red with weariness, and he was shivering in the cold. It was almost winter, and Palancar Valley would soon be choked with snow.

Eragon's family needed meat for the winter; it had been a bad year, and they hadn't brought in as many crops as his adoptive father, Garrow, had expected. Now Eragon was trying to bring in as much game as possible, to be preserved for the long months ahead.

A faint rustle in the bushes made Eragon turn, pulling his bow from the buckskin tube on his back. He was nocking an arrow when he saw that it was only a bird taking flight. Eragon relaxed, but kept his bow in hand. He couldn't get careless out alone in the wilderness, and especially not in the Spine.

Most people in Carvahall feared the Spine; strange tales were told of it, few of them good. The mountain range ran up and down Algaesia, and nowhere was it tamed. But Eragon didn't fear the Spine. It had brought him many a good meal over the years.

There they were—the tracks Eragon had been looking for. The herd seemed to be heading for a small glade Eragon had visited once or twice. It was a safe place, deep in the mountains, with plenty of grass and tender shoots. Eragon trekked on, sure-footed even in deepening twilight. He was only fifteen, but already he was a skilled tracker, and as good with his bow as any man in Carvahall. He had to be, to support his family.

Eragon paused, crouched behind a tree. The herd was there in the glade, just as he had thought. Reaching into his quiver, Eragon quietly drew out three arrows. He stuck two into the ground within easy reach and put another to the string. Pulling the string back, Eragon took his time lining up his shot. Carefully…carefully…he mustn't rush, or all his work of the last three days would be wasted…

He released the arrow, and the world exploded.

There was a blinding flash of light, and Eragon was knocked off his feet by a shockwave. He could feel his skin sizzle from the intense heat that flowed over him. When all was still, Eragon lay there for a while, catching his breath. Then he got to his feet and cautiously stepped forward.

Where the glade had been there was now a charred circle of ground. Around it were a few half-burnt trees and bushes, survivors on the edge of the destruction.

In the center of the ash was a polished blue stone, a little larger than Eragon's head. It was midnight blue, veined with thin bands of white, and it was unnaturally smooth. Eragon felt a strange desire to pick it up. Even though his mind screamed at him that this was a terrible idea, that the stone was surely dangerous if it had the power to burn out the glade, that he was being incredibly foolish, he bent down.

The stone was cool and smooth under his fingers, like flowing water. It felt heavy in Eragon's hands in a way that had nothing to do with weight. It was entrancing, but his fear broke through.

_What am I doing? This is crazy—I've got to get ride of this thing, leave it here, forget that I ever saw it! It's too dangerous…it's…_

Eragon gently caressed the stone. It was so very, very beautiful. It seemed impossible that he should abandon it to the wild Spine. Why shouldn't he take it? It had come to him, hadn't it? It was meant for him. It _needed_ him.

Eragon spread his bedroll under the trees at the edge of the glade. He would set out for home tomorrow, with empty hands and an empty belly. But somehow, none of that mattered to Eragon right then. He drifted slowly off to sleep, not feeling the frigid air, not noticing the hard ground beneath him.

As his eyes flickered shut, the last thing he saw was the moon's reflection, distorted and tinted blue by the stone.

_"What did you think, Eragon? Did you like it? I thought your dialogue—well, mental dialogue I guess—was much better. You sound more like a kid here. And I decided you wouldn't guess right away that someone transported the stone there by magic. Maybe it was there all along."_

_Eragon looked over the chapter. "I don't know…the setting hardly got any description. You can't even tell what the valley looks like, and you didn't mention how it was a harvest moon, and how it cast a ruddy glow over the valley, and how there was thick mist! And what about the doe with the limp?"_

_Subieko just shrugged. "What about it? Did that really matter to the story? And the reader can imagine the setting, we told them it's in the wilderness and there are mountains and it's cold. What more do you want? And what about the bit with the stone?"_

_Eragon made a noncommittal sound._

_"Well, I like it," Brom said kindly. "It's a good idea, that the egg sort of entrances him, what with he and Saphira being bonded."_

_"Yeah—that's just what I was thinking! Aww…you're so nice, Brom."_

_"Does that mean I get to live?" Brom said hopefully._

_"…don't count on," Subieko replied._

_Durza waved Brom away. "So what's next? Something with me? How about it, Subieko? I'm much more fun to write about than Garrow and Roran!"_

_"Well, that's true," Subieko said. "But remember, you can't hunt down Eragon without the scenes with Garrow and Roran. He's got to come from somewhere."_

_"And this is the chapter where we find out how evil Galbatorix is," Eragon said. "That's important, too."_

_"Actually...we need to work on that," Subieko said. "In the book, Galby doesn't look all that evil…I mean, we see some burned-out towns and he makes people pay taxes, but it's just not clear why the Varden are even fighting him. I mean, all the atrocities started _after_ the Varden started making trouble."_

_"Yeah, but…he's insane!" Eragon said. "That makes him evil!"_

_Subieko rolled her eyes. "That's not _enough_, Eragon. If you want the reader to feel hatred for Galby, you've got to show them how evil he is. If we just _say_ it, they might not even believe us!"_

_"Huh…well, why doesn't he go slay some people or something?"_

_Subieko completely ignored this suggestion. "Come to think of it, why do you know all about how evil Galby is anyway? I mean…you don't know anything _else_ about the world. Your home is really isolated. Why would you care?"_

_"Well—well—because he's evil! I'm the hero, I have to hate the bad guys!"_

_"You're not the hero yet, Eragon. You become the hero later…and you should find out about Galby later. Yeah—that settles it!"_

_"Wait!" Durza said. "What about me? When do I get to be in the story again?"_

_"Um…well…it takes a while in the book, Durza. But maybe we can put you in earlier!" Subieko added quickly, seeing Durza's face fall. "We can put a chapter with you and Galby or something…although, actually…"_

_"What? What is it?" Durza said._

_Subieko frowned, tugging at a lock of hair. "Well…in the book, Eragon and Saphira hang around for like three months. That's kind of a long time."_

_"Yeah, but Saphira had to grow," Eragon said._

_Subieko shrugged. "Not all animals take a long time to grow. Humans take years before they can take care of themselves even a little, it's true, but for lots of animals it's much shorter. Look at sharks—they're born ready to swim off and hunt for themselves. Even some mammals can walk just a few hours after birth! Why not Saphira?"_

_Brom lit his pipe again, pondering this. "Hmm…yes, why not? Why, a cat is only a kitten for a year or so. Why shouldn't dragons take less time to be self-sufficient?"_

_"Not self-sufficient!" Subieko said hurriedly. "No, just enough to travel with you and Eragon. She'll still be a baby. It's just that if Durza's going back to report to Galby, and he knows the egg vanished when he was near Palancar…why would it take three months to find Eragon?"_

_"Well, no one visits Palancar Valley all winter," Eragon said. "They had to wait until the traders came."_

_"Why, though?" Subieko said. "Durza's supposed to be this incredibly powerful sorcerer—why couldn't he use magic to spy, or something? Or why couldn't the Ra'zac just fly in? And speaking of them—"_

_"But Subieko, that's changing the plot so much!" Eragon cried. "Then how will we know what happens next?"_

_"We won't," Subieko said. "That's half the fun. Now…let's get started!"_


	4. Dragon Tales

Author's Note: Whoa...this got long. Really long. It was a long chapter in the book, so...okay, from now on I think I'll split really long chapters into multiple parts. These huge chapters are too hard to read...and I don't get as much time to annoy the characters. (laughs) Wow...so many reviews...! Ah, I'm getting all choked up. Thanks, everyone! My PC is broken again, so updates may be sporadic for a while. And I had a reviewer suggestion to have the characters talk during the chapters as well...does that sound like a good idea? It might be fun, but I wonder if it would make the story choppy...opinions? Well I'll stop making this chapter longer with my ranting and start! Enjoy the chapter (despite its ridiculous length).

Chapter 2: Dragon Tales

_"Wait—what happened to 'Palancar Valley'? Dragon Tales is chapter 3!" Eragon said._

_"It was boring, so I'm skipping it."_

_"But that's my big scene with Sloan! I get to be really brave and stuff! And it sets up the romance subplot with Roran. You know, the one in Eldest."_

_"Who needs that?" Subieko said. "He's not even a major character. The story can go on just fine without him. And Eragon, you live in a small, impoverished village. There is _no way_ you'd have a butcher shop! It just doesn't make sense! So, no butcher shop for you. And then there's that stupid introduction to Garrow, where he's all harsh and cold. Who needs that? No, we're definitely skipping ahead."_

_"Say…where _is_ Garrow? And Roran, too. They're in this chapter, so shouldn't they be helping us with it?"_

_"Nope," Subieko said._

_"Why not?"_

_"Because they're minor characters. Only major characters get to do stuff like this. I know it hurts, but that's just how it goes. If you're in here right now…you're a major character."_

_Everyone in the room breathed a quick sigh of relief, and the chapter began…_

Eragon took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, a broad grin on his face. His smile widened as he looked down over Carvahall. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the little houses, and he could faintly hear the voices of the townspeople as they prepared to turn in for the evening. Eragon made his way down into the valley, weighed down by his heavy pack. The stone was the only prize he had to bring back, and a shadow of doubt crossed his face as he wondered what Garrow would say.

But as Eragon made his way through the little town to his adoptive father's farmhouse, his worries faded to the back of his mind. It was good to be home after three days out in the Spine, tracking the herd of deer.

Eragon reached the end of the village and continued on into the deepening night, guided only by the pale light of the moon. His pace quickened as he neared the end of his journey, and at last he turned off the road onto a small dirt path. Eragon pushed through the thick, waist-high grass and made his way up the small hill. The gently light of a lantern gave his face a ruddy glow as he knocked on the door of the farmhouse.

"It's me, Uncle," he said. Eragon always called Garrow uncle; somehow it felt strange to call him father.

The door creaked open and Garrow welcomed Eragon with a quick embrace. "Thank goodness—every time you go out into the Spine I wonder if we'll ever see you again. If only there was a better place for game…"

Eragon forced a smile, his heart sinking. "Uncle…I couldn't find anything. I was tracking a herd of deer, but…" Eragon was about to tell Garrow about the strange explosion and the stone, but he abruptly shut his mouth. For now, he would keep that to himself. "…but I never caught up to them. The tracks must have been older than I thought."

Garrow's face tightened, making the lines around his eyes even more prominent. He looked suddenly old to Eragon's eyes as he stood there, half in shadow. "There's less and less game now…winter's coming."

Eragon's chest felt suddenly tight. "I'll go out again tomorrow—this time I'll bring in something. We'll make it through the winter, Uncle."

Garrow waved his hand easily, managing a smile. "No, no, Eragon. You've been out there for three days, you need rest. Don't worry—we'll manage somehow. Go get some sleep, now."

Eragon nodded, swaying on his feet. He was more tired than he had realized. He went down the hall to his bedroom and gently pushed the door open. Their farm was spacious; it had been passed down through Garrow's family for generations. But now it was only Garrow and his two sons who were left, and it was getting harder and harder to keep the farm going. They could plant on only a fraction of their land simply because they didn't have enough hands to care for all the crops.

Right now, though, Eragon wasn't thinking about their small harvest that year, or the coming winter, or the many nights that his family went to sleep with empty bellies. He collapsed onto his bed and was asleep in seconds.

The next morning, Eragon was awoken by incessant pounding on his door. "Eragon, wake up! We've got work to do today, remember?"

The door swung open, and Eragon's brother Roran strode into the room, grinning. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead," he said, shoving Eragon out of bed. Eragon shoved him back, smiling ruefully. He had been exhausted the night before, but his sleep had refreshed him, and he was ready to help Roran and Garrow start bringing in the harvest.

"Whoa—what's that?" asked Roran, noticing the blue stone on one of the shelves Eragon had painstakingly made.

Eragon shrugged uneasily. "Just something I found out in the Spine. It looked interesting, so I brought it home."

"It's nice, but it would be even nicer if you could eat it!" Roran said. With that, he left Eragon to dress and went out to wait for him in the fields.

Eragon pulled on his breeches and tunic, then laced up his leather boots. He was heading out the door when he glanced back, feeling a strange touch of worry. But the stone was still there, safe and sound. Eragon shook himself, feeling silly, and went out to join Roran in the fields.

The day was filled with going through the fields, the earth already half-frozen under their feet, and harvesting what crops they had. The barley came in, along with the potatoes and the turnips, the beans and the beets. The ground grew barer and barer as the three made their way painstakingly across the farmland.

Eragon's shadow was thing and sharp across the frozen ground in the last rays of the sun when they finally stopped for the day. Every muscle in his body ached, and his nose, fingers, and ears felt like they might drop off, frozen. But as he stretched, wincing, his thoughts weren't on any of that. He, Roran, and Garrow made a meager supper out of some of the freshly harvested vegetable crop, then collapsed in their beds. The next day would be much the same, as would plenty of days after.

The first thing Eragon saw before he slept was the smooth surface of the stone, its clear blue color deepened by the shadows of the night.

"Wake up, you two—we've got to get ready for the traders!"

Eragon rolled out of bed, blinking owlishly. It was still dark out, but he knew Garrow was right; they had to pack up all the goods they were planning to sell to the traders. Every year at about this time, a caravan of traveling merchants and wandering gypsies came to Carvahall. It was the perfect opportunity to trade for supplies and catch up on the news in the rest of the Empire. Carvahall's isolation gave them all peace and quiet, but it also made the townspeople feel somewhat estranged from the world.

Eragon, Roran, and Garrow loaded up the rickety wagon with their spare produce and the few animals they could spare, then hitched up their old plow horse. Garrow had rather unimaginatively named her Blackie for her dark coat. She gave what Eragon supposed was the horse equivalent of a sigh when they settled the harness onto her, but Blackie obligingly trotted off toward Carvahall.

The town was abuzz when they arrived. Everyone had turned out, whether to buy or sell their goods, or simply to enjoy the fun. The traders were already parking their wagons and setting up their tents.

"I'm going to see what kind of prices I can get on this," Garrow said, waving a hand at the wagon. "The two of you can do what you like, but remember to meet me at Horst's for supper."

Horst was the leading man of the town. Although he held no elected position, he was liked and respected by them all, and they abided by his judgment. It was a town tradition for everyone to gather outside Horst's house for a celebration when the traders came, hailing the beginning of winter.

Garrow marched off, leading Blackie, and Eragon and Roran were left alone.

"Roran…why did you blush just now? Is there something going on I don't know about?" Eragon said, grinning. He knew perfectly well that Roran was quite infatuated with Horst's daughter Katrina.

"I—that is—it's none of your business, Eragon!" Roran said, his face now bright red.

"Come on…you can't even tell me, your favorite brother?"

"You're my _only_ brother."

"That's even worse, then!" Eragon said, throwing his hands in the air. "Who else do you have to confide in?"

"…fine," Roran said, smiling ruefully. "But look, Eragon, this is a secret. Got it?"

Eragon nodded solemnly. "You know I'd never tell anyone, Roran."

"I do," Roran admitted. "The truth is…I'm going to ask Katrina for her hand."

"WHAT!?"

"Shhh!" Roran said, looking hastily around to make sure no one had heard. "Keep it down, will you? Why so surprised? You know we've been seeing each other for a few months now."

"Yeah…I know," Eragon said softly, more shaken than he cared to admit. He had always known Roran would leave and get married someday, but it had come awfully fast. "So…so what are your plans?"  
Roran was smiling now, a trace of nervousness in his face. "You know that miller, Dempton? He comes up here from Therinsford every year for the traders. He's offered me an apprenticeship. Once I've saved up enough, I'll come back with Kat. Just think, Eragon—our farmhouse is plenty big enough to support a family, and with more hands, the farm will get better and better…!"

Roran's excitement was contagious; Eragon was soon smiling with him. "You two will be perfect together," he said. Then his face grew more serious. "Roran…I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you two," Roran said, resting a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "But let's go see the traders' booths. Think of it as sibling bonding time, Erry."

"You know I hate that stupid nickname!" Eragon said, shoving Roran lightly.

"That's exactly why I use it," Roran replied.

The two set off together, teasing each other all the way. Eragon put Roran's impending departure out of his mind for now. Tonight, he and Roran would enjoy themselves, just as they always had.

As they approached the rows of stalls, Roran saw a flash of copper hair. "I'll catch you later," he mumbled to Eragon as he dashed off in hot pursuit.

Eragon chuckled. Only Roran could have spotted Katrina in the large crowd. Eragon ambled on alone, looking here and there, buying nothing but admiring everything. As he walked, something began to trouble him. Somehow, the traders seemed more on edge this year. The children hid their faces in their mothers skirts when strangers approached, and the men wore swords in battered leather scabbards. Even the women had knives on their belts. All of them seemed the worse for wear, and far less prosperous than in other years.

Eragon longed to ask what had happened, but the traders were busy, and in any case he had a feeling they wouldn't be inclined to tell him. Instead, Eragon made his way to Morn's tavern. The familiar signpost soon came into view; over the door was a set of curling black Urgal horns, as wide as Eragon's outstretched arms. Eragon had never seen an Urgal, and neither had anyone else he knew, but people said they were monsters who came over the sea long ago.

The tavern was packed with faces both new and old. Eragon sat down by the long bar, keeping an ear and an eye on everyone else. In just a few minutes he heard some terrifying rumors—reports of Urgals gathering in large numbers, migrating toward the Hadarac desert. Some had been spotted near cities and on main roads, raiding caravans. Even worse, there were some whispered rumors that a Shade had been seen. A shiver ran up Eragon's spine. The only thing he knew about Shades was that it was rare to see one twice; most people didn't survive the encounter.

"Eragon!" It was Morn, the tavern's owner. He came to lean on the counter by Eragon. "It's been a while since I last saw you in here. Have you grown? You have, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir," Eragon said, hiding a smile. Morn said the same thing every time Eragon saw him. Eragon mused that if he kept coming in here long enough, he might turn into a giant.

"There's no need to 'sir' me," Morn said, giving Eragon a hearty clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him off the bench. "We've known each other too long for that. Why, I remember when you were this high…"

"Oh—I think I just saw…" Eragon mumbled something indistinct that he hoped sounded like a name. "I'll go say hello to him."

Having escaped Morn's kindly patter, Eragon was forced to struggle through the crowded, noisy room and find a new seat. He settled down in a corner, close to a table of traders and one or two people Eragon vaguely recognized from Carvahall.

"Ah…a good brew this year," one said, downing a mug of ale. "Here's to the King!"

The man next to him clapped him on the shoulder with a raucous laugh. "Jared, I'll only thank ole' Galby when he takes his hands out of my pockets!"

The whole table joined in the laughter now. One man remained serious, however. "It's more than that," he said softly, glancing around. Eragon shrank back into the shadow of a support beam, listening hard.

"What do you mean, Evan?"

"Well," said the man (Evan, Eragon assumed), "I've heard that these Urgals are moving under the King's orders…that he's trying to conquer Surda. If we cross the border and declare war, what's going to happen to us? The Empire needs its trade with Surda, _we_ need that trade."

The men all shook their heads, faces grim. "You're right about that, Evan," said another. "But did you hear about those Varden?"

Eragon leaned closer, straining to hear every word. The Varden were a rebel group that fought the King at every turn. They were popular in the Empire, although no one would say that too loudly. Even in isolated Palacar Valley, everyone knew that King Galbatorix was a greedy miser who had no thought for his people's needs. People said that the only reason he remained in power was because of the might of his army, and of course, the might of his dragon. The King's black dragon Shruiken was the last of its kind.

"Keep your voice down!" Jared said. "You know what'd happen in anyone reported us…"

"Not here in Carvahall," said Richard, a man Eragon knew from his infrequent trips to the town. "We're all against the King, same as any right-thinking person."

Jared subsided, and the other man continued his tale. "They say the Varden have been plaguing the King worse than ever—he's drawing off resources to keep up the fight. The Varden have been taking in refugees and rescuing people imprisoned unjustly by the King. They've got my sympathy, I'll tell you that!"

"Hear, hear!" said Evan, and they all raised their glasses again.

Eragon had heard enough. The crowded tavern was becoming stifling, and he slipped out the back door for a breath of the cool night air. So…the Varden. The most Eragon knew about such things were rumors. Of course, since the Varden had been formed a century ago when Galbatorix rose to power, whatever had once been known about them was lost to the mists of time. Who their leader was, who was in it, where their main base was…nothing was known. Eragon shrugged and headed for Horst's; it was almost time for supper. The King, the Varden, the Urgals…none of it had anything to do with the life of a farmer from Palancar Valley.

Dinner at Horst's meant a laden table and a lot of laughter. Eragon managed to find Roran and grab a seat next to him. They spoke quietly, their conversation masked by the flood of other sounds in the room.

"So?" Eragon said, looking at Roran expectantly. "How'd it go?"  
"How'd what go?" Roran said, keeping his face perfectly straight.

"I know what you're doing, Roran—now just spit it out!"

"All right," Roran said, smiling. "…she said yes."

Eragon had to restrain himself; he had the urge to cheer at the top of his lungs. "Roran, that's—that's—" Eragon couldn't find the words to explain, so he just seized his brother in a tight hug.

"I know," Roran said, his eyes shining. "I could hardly believe it…I wonder whether Dad will be pleased or furious?"

Eragon shrugged. "Who knows? But I think he'll be happy. Who wouldn't be?"

"I hope so," Roran said. With that, they both turned their attention to their dinners.

"Hurry up, Roran—we've got to get good spots!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Roran said, jogging after Eragon. "Sheesh…I can't believe you still love watching the bards so much. You're almost a man now—these stories are for kids!"

Eragon flushed. "So what if I like them? You know you do too!"

"…what happened to being late?" Roran said, dashing ahead.

The two arrived, panting, just in time. Together they elbowed their way through the crowd to the edge of the ring surrounding Brom, the old storyteller who lived in Carvahall. Crouching before a smoldering fire, half cloaked in shadows, he seemed strange to Eragon; a mysterious creature of the night. His tangled white beard glimmered in the moonlight as he spread his hands and began his tale.

"To time, we are as pebbles tossed into a mighty river. A pebble cannot stop the rivers flow; no more can we hope to command time, which masters all things. Time flows on, and we with it; and so the past is lost to us. But we need not let the past be washed away. Our memories hold the taste of water from farther upstream, and now, I offer you a drink."

Brom looked around at the crowd, drawing himself up grandly and peering into their waiting eyes. He was a master storyteller, and knew how to draw in an audience, how to hold them, how to let the tension build. His gaze touched Eragon and lingered for a moment; Eragon shivered. But before he could wonder what had happened, Brom returned to his tale.

"Long, long ago, so long that it was before the world knew time and its unceasing decay, there were Dragons. They were masters of air and earth, the absolute lords of their domain. Here they dwelt in Alagaseia, long before our own race ever set foot in these lands. The sight of them when they soared through the air, like glittering jewels, their wings outstretched, their proud heads thrown back…we can only weep that it is lost to us.

Long the Dragons dwelt here, before the coming of man. But their long history was known only to them, and they are gone. Our memories do not stretch so far. Before your father's fathers, before your grandfather's grandfathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. They were a Dragon and its rider, bonded so deeply that they fought as one, unmatched guardians of the world for countless ages. The link between Dragon and rider was so strong that the riders partook of the dragons' immortal life, and became as strong as ten ordinary men, masters of magic and blade. The dragons were no less powerful; they called forth fire from within them, and their claws could rend even stone and steel.

It was a golden age of the world while they kept peace; all flourished, and the races were allied: human, elf, and dwarf lived in harmony. But it is in the nature of time that all things fade, like flowers that bloom at dawn only to whither at nightfall. This age could not last."

Brom paused and took a breath. It wasn't strange that he needed one; he had been speaking for some time. But somehow, Eragon felt that this breath had nothing to do with being winded. It was something in Brom's eyes…a sorrow that pierced Eragon like a knife.

Gathering himself, Brom spoke on. "That which is too strong to be bested bears the seeds of its own destruction. The Dragon Riders were unmatched by any…save themselves. It came to pass that a boy was born, a boy who would change the world. When he was old enough, the Riders tested him as was their custom and found great power in him. They began his training at once, and with his sharp mind and strong body, he quickly rose through the ranks. He and his dragon were peerless.

"But even they were not beyond defeat. One day, the boy and his dragon took a foolhardy trip with two friends. They flew north for many days and nights, into the Urgal's lands. They thought their powers would protect them; instead, they were ambushed as they slept on a sheet of ice that never melts. His friends and the three dragons were all slain, but the boy managed to fight off his attackers. The boy had no power to save his dragon, and she died before his eyes. Within him, the seed of madness had been sown. And time, that unfeeling monolith, tended it as he does all things.

"The boy wandered in that desolate land, seeking death and a release from his suffering. But though he threw himself against every living thing he found, he bested them all. Soon the Urgals and other dwellers in the north lands fled from him, and he was alone with his tormented thoughts. But it came to him that the Riders might grant him another dragon, and he began the journey back—on foot—through the Spine mountains. When he finally left the mountains he was near death from the grueling journey. A farmer found him collapsed in the dirt and called the Riders.

"The boy was taken to their stronghold and his body was healed; of his fevered mind he gave no sign. He made his demand for another dragon when he was brought before a council convened to judge him, his desperation revealing his madness. Seeing his true mind, the council banished him. The boy, his mind twisted, came to see his dragons death as the Rider's fault. In the dark watches of the night he turned that one thought over and over in his mind. The thirst for revenge was all that kept him clinging to life."

Eragon gazed at Brom, his mouth hanging open, as the storyteller's voice wrapped around them. He was swept up in the tale, not hearing it but living it, completely absorbed.

"It might have come to naught, if the boy hadn't found a sympathetic Rider…Morzan. With his honeyed tongue, the boy quickly turned Morzan to his cause. The boy convinced Morzan to leave unbolted a certain gate in the citadel of Ilirea, which is now called Uru'baen. The boy stole through this gate like a shadow and stole a dragon hatchling.

"He and Morzan then hid themselves in an evil place that the Riders dared not enter. It was then that Morzan learned dark and forbidden arts from the boy, arts that were meant to remain buried for eternity. When the instruction was finished and the dragon fully grown, the two revealed themselves to the world. The Riders rose to cast them down, but the boy and his loyal right hand, Morzan, slew one after another, and with each kill their strength grew. Soon enough the boy's words, which had proved so deadly to Morzan, entranced twelve other Riders, who with Morzan were called the Thirteen Forsworn. The Riders were joined by the elves in their battle against these traitorous riders, but the Riders were slain and the elves were overthrown. They fled to their secret havens, and they have come no more to our lands.

"Only one man dared to stand against the Forsworn. He was Vrael, the leader of the Riders, the mightiest and boldest of all. He and his mortal enemy, the leader of the Forsworn, battled before the gates of Doru Areaba. Vrael struck down the boy, but in his great heart there still remained pity and mercy for the lost child of the Riders. Vrael reached out to the boy, filled with sorrow, but the boy smote Vrael in the side. Vrael fled, grievously wounded, to Utgard Mountain, hoping to hide there and gather his remaining strength. But it was not to be…

"The boy found Vrael there, and in his weakened condition Vrael could not face him. The boy struck down the leader of the Riders, and placed his severed head before the gates of his newly conquered stronghold as a warning to all who would oppose him.

"With that kill, power rushed through his veins, and he anointed himself king over all Alagaesia. He ruled from that day forth…"

Brom paused here, as any master storyteller would. The audience leaned forward as one, waiting for the last words, hungering for them. Brom took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, letting the tension grow. Then, when it was at its breaking point, he spoke.

"The boy's name was Galbatorix."

Brom rose and shuffled off in dead silence as the audience stood there, still spellbound in the wake of Brom's words. Garrow pushed through the crowd to find Eragon and Roran.

"There you two are—we've got to be heading home." Seeing their dazed faces, he smiled. "You're lucky to have heard that one—I've heard it told only twice in my life. If the Empire knew that Brom had spoken it…" Garrow shook his head. "He would beg for death before the end."

Eragon shuddered. As they walked back to the wagon in the darkness, he glanced back over his shoulder. To his surprise, he saw that Brom had returned to the fireside. Illuminated by the flames, Eragon saw the old man slump down and put his head in his hands.

_"Well? How did it go, everyone? Tell me the truth, now—don't try to spare my feelings."_

_"Believe me, we won't," Arya said._

_"Oh shut up, you're not even in this chapter. Well, Eragon?"_

_Eragon fidgeted with the hilt of his sword, not meeting Subieko's eyes. "It's…well, it's nice, but…"_

_"But _what_, Eragon?" Subieko said, her eyes narrowing._

_Eragon swallowed hard. "Well…it's just that you said I was adopted when Garrow really is my uncle. And you made me and Roran act so…so childish! And nobody hated Galbatorix as much!"_

_"Yeah," said Galbatorix. "What happened to my evil reign of terror? You short-changed me even worse than the original book!"_

_"Guys, just calm down—"_

_Suddenly, the door burst open. Roran and Garrow ran to the center of the room, scowling._

_"What did you do _that_ for!?" Roran said. "What happened to my subplot with Katrina?"_

_Subieko folded her arms tightly across her chest, frowning. "Frankly, Roran, I think I improved it a lot. You and Eragon actually got to act like brothers and have some bonding time. Eragon didn't sulk as much. Be thankful—I was considering not putting Katrina in at all!"_

_Roran gasped in horror and retreated, but Garrow stepped forward. "What about _me_? I'm supposed to a tight-fisted, bitter old man with overly high expectations of my sons and complete paranoia about outsiders, even people in my own town! You made me all…all…nice!"_

_"…I can't believe you're complaining about that," Subieko said. "Anyway, we've got a book to write, so would you mind leaving?"_

_The two looked like they were about to protest. Subieko sighed and gestured to Saphira. "Saphira, would you mind…?"_

_The dragon didn't move._

_"Saphira, need I remind you that next chapter is your debut?"_

_Saphira leapt up and nosed Garrow and Roran out the door with surprising alacrity._

_"Sell-out," Eragon muttered. But Saphira shushed him._

_"Hey—you forgot _me_!" Brom said. "I was in this chapter and I didn't even get a say in what happened?"_

_Subieko rolled her eyes. "Brom, all you did was read a stupid story. Tell a stupid story. Whatever. And anyway I forgot you were in this chapter until the end. We'll talk next time, okay?"_

_Brom harrumphed, but he had no chance to reply; Durza shoved him out of the way. "Subieko, am I in the next chapter? Am I? Am I!? You said I could have more chapters, remember?"_

_"Yes, Durza, yes," Subieko said patiently. "But you see, we can't bring you back in yet. We have to build up more suspense, the egg has to hatch, you get the picture. Don't worry—your turn will come."_

_"But…"_

_"C'mon, Durza, work with me here," Subieko said, laying a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Will it make you feel better if I tell you what I'm planning to do?"_

_Durza nodded tearfully, and Subieko, after a quick glance around, whispered something in his ear._

_"Wow—really!?"_

_"Uh-huh."_

_Durza grinned and skipped off, giggling merrily. The other characters shielded their eyes from the unholy sight._

_"Now, if everyone's done complaining…"_

_"No, we're not!" cried several of the characters._

_Subieko rubbed her temples. "Durza…"_

_"Yes?" the Shade said, still grinning blissfully._

_"Some of our friends don't want to continue yet."_

_"…yes?"_

_"The longer it takes to write the next chapter, the longer you have to wait for _your_ chapter."_

_Durza gasped in sudden, horrified realization. Then he stood up very, very slowly and stalked closer to the other characters. They inched backward, terrified, as the Shade's face took on a rather feral look._

_"Who was it that didn't want to start the next chapter…?" he said, slavering slightly._

_"…not me," was the communal mutter._

_"Good," Durza said, abruptly becoming gleeful again. "So can we get started now!?"_

_Subieko nodded. "Of course we can! Okay, guys…get ready for the big moment!"_


	5. Awakening

Author's Note: Soo...the PC is still broken. Uploads are being surreptitiously done on a school library computer...but they can't be as frequent, alas! So here's the next chapter. And I've decided that rather than have the characters interrupt the story, I'll just make the chapters shorter and break longer chapters into multiple parts. It works better. And thank you to all reviewers! Soo...enjoy!

Chapter 3: Awakening

_"Wait, wait, wait. The next chapter should be Fate's Gift! Awakening is the one after that," Eragon said._

_"…what? Oh—that," Subieko said, looking up from her computer screen. "Fate's Gift is like…two pages long. There's no point in having it separate from Awakening, and Awakening is a better chapter title."_

_"But it has more drama as two chapters," said Brom. "As a professional storyteller, I should know."_

_Subieko snapped her laptop shut, eyes in Death Glare Mode. "Brom, I don't know why you think you're a decent storyteller, I had to completely revamp that _awful_ story you told in the book, it sounded like you were reading an excerpt from a poorly written history book, oral tradition is supposed to be colorful and lyrical and I could barely make anything out of it because the story was so poorly told and—"_

_"Enough! Enough!" Brom said, clapping his hands over his ears. "My ears, they bleed…"_

_"They do not, you big baby!" Eragon said. "I have much more reason to complain than you—parts of my story keep getting cut!"_

_"Stop it, both of you!" Subieko said. "I told you, we're going to start adding all-new stuff really soon. You'll see, Eragon—you'll get to do lots of cool things. And I'm not _cutting_ the story, I'm just _trimming_ it. It had lots of excess fat before, like an untrimmed steak. Trimming makes everything taste better!"_

_"…have you eaten yet, Subieko?" Brom said, raising an eyebrow. "Because that simile is…how shall I put this…"_

_"My simile is _fine_, Brom! It's clever! It's imaginative! Now leave me alone…and someone get me some chocolate, dammit!"_

_While Durza went to fetch some chocolate, Eragon and Saphira sat down together to work on the story._

I'd like a more dramatic entrance_, Saphira said._

_"She'd like a more dramatic entrance," Eragon reported._

_"Eragon, you don't have to repeat it. I can hear her perfectly well."_

_"But…but no one else can!"_

_Subieko shrugged. "I'm the author. We're cool like that. Anyway, Saphira, your entrance will be very dramatic, don't worry. Now what about the actual story?"_

_"Er…actually, there was something I was hoping you could change…" Eragon said, shuffling his feet._

_"What is, Erry? Just say the word!"_

_"Why did you give me that stupid nickname!?" Eragon said._

_Subieko giggled. "Because it's cute! Now, what is it?"_

_"Well…when the egg starts squeaking, I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm not _that_ stupid!"_

_Subieko nodded. "Yeah…you're right. That really is pretty stupid. Okay, that's definitely changing! Anything else?"  
Saphira nudged Subieko. _I don't want to be such a pansy. I'm a mighty dragon—why am I always following Eragon around?

_"And I don't want her to keep correcting me all the time," Eragon said. "She's younger than me—why should she know more than I do?"_

_Subieko nodded. "Yep, yep…got it. So, are we ready to roll?"  
Everyone nodded, holding their breaths._

_"All right—let's go for it!"_

Eragon tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Something was nagging at his thoughts, something important that he had forgotten…but what could it be? Grumbling, Eragon sat up. It was almost dawn anyway.

Then Eragon heard something that made him stop short. It was a faint squeaking sound, higher pitched than the mice he sometimes heard in the barn. And with it, a sharp tapping…

Eragon turned slowly to his shelves. There it was—his prize from the Spine, the blue stone. It was shaking back and forth, squeaking, rocking so violently that Eragon thought it would fall. He stared at it, transfixed, as a crack appeared in it. The crack widened, widened further, and then…

It scrambled out onto the narrow shelf, damp and shivering. In the faint pre-dawn light, Eragon could see the glitter of its brilliantly blue scales. Its mouth opened, showing tiny, needle-like teeth, and it peeped softly.

Eragon rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming or insane. It had to be one of those two—there was no way this was…it couldn't be…but they had all been wiped out centuries ago…

Shaking itself from nose to tail, the creature began exploring the shelf it found itself on. Its claws clicked softly against the wood, and its tail swung back and forth like a cat's. Its wings, thin and filmy, flopped awkwardly about; they were almost comically large compared to the little creature's body. It was like a lizard, but the most incredible lizard Eragon had ever seen. He longed to touch it, to stroke its glittering scales and run his fingers over the row of spines that ran down its back, just to prove to himself that it was real.

"A dragon," he whispered. "A dragon…!"

Hearing him, the dragon turned its head, just smaller than his clenched fist, toward Eragon. It cheeped pitifully, its snake-like tongue flicking in and out.

"Are you hungry?" Eragon said softly, taking a cautious step closer. What did dragons eat? He had no idea, but he would have to think fast—the poor thing looked so miserable. Snakes ate eggs, Eragon remembered—maybe dragons would too.

"Stay here," Eragon told the dragon, hoping it would get the idea. Just in case, he shut his door firmly behind him. He crept through the house, slipping on his boots before he stepped out into the frozen yard. Inside the hen house, the chickens squawked irritably at him as he gently took a few eggs and hurried back to his room with them.

"I must be crazy," Eragon mumbled as he shut the door behind him, setting the eggs down on his bed. They needed those eggs, whether to hatch for more hens or to eat. "But my dragon needs food, too," Eragon said. Then he realized how silly it sounded—'my dragon.' But another part of him was very happy to hear those words.

"Come here," Eragon said, patting the bed beside him. "Come on, I brought some food…"

The dragon stopped at the edge of the shelf, looking at the long drop to the floor. Then it looked up at Eragon expectantly.

"Fine," Eragon said, getting up and reaching for the dragon. "Just don't bite me…"

Eragon's hand brushed the dragon's side, and the world went black.

A rush liquid fire seared through his hand and into his body, freezing him and burning him all at once. Eragon was lost in a sea of agony, unable to see anything, to feel anything, wishing only that it would stop—

And it did. He lay on the floor, panting, and the dragon was looking down at him. It cheeped softly, and Eragon felt a strange twinge of remorse and worry. Then he felt a flash of ravenous hunger, and suddenly realized that these feelings weren't coming from him.

"It couldn't be…_you_, could it?" he whispered, gazing at the dragon. It just cheeped again, and Eragon reached out cautiously, bracing himself as his fingers neared its little head. The dragon rubbed its face against his hand. There was no pain at all.

Sighing in relief, Eragon gathered the dragon up and brought it over to his bed. One by one, it bit into the eggs and sucked out the yolks. When it was finished, it burped softly and promptly fell asleep on Eragon's lap.

Eragon stroked it gently, a broad grin on his face. It was true…it was really happening, he was holding a real, live dragon! At that moment, Eragon couldn't imagine anything better in the world.

Something strange on his palm caught Eragon's eye. Holding his hand closer to his face, he saw a pale, white oval in the middle of his palm. Even though he had felt that burning pain only minutes earlier, it was hard for Eragon to believe that the dragon had caused this. And how was he going to hide it from Roran and Uncle Garrow? How was he going to hide the _dragon_ from them?

The happiness that had welled up inside Eragon was rapidly draining. It was starting to dawn on him that there was simply no way for him to keep the dragon without someone finding out. And if they _did _find out…

At worst, they might kill it at once in fear. At best, they would simply take it away from Eragon, and to his mind, that was almost as bad. He had to keep it a secret—it was impossible to keep it a secret.

"But it's so small," Eragon said softly, gazing down at the dragon. It was only about the size of a housecat. "I could just keep it in here…"

A wonderful idea struck Eragon. Now that it was winter, there wouldn't be much work on the farm, and he and Roran would soon be out setting traps for any foraging animals to supplement their harvest. He would volunteer to check them every day, and he could hide the dragon in his pack and take it with him…whatever game he caught, he could feed some to the dragon. It was perfect!

Smiling contentedly, Eragon gently pushed the dragon off his lap and lay down to sleep beside it. He couldn't remember ever feeling happier in his life.

_"So how about that? Are both of you happy?" Subieko said, leaning back in her chair._

_"This hardly counts as a whole chapter," Brom said, hiding his pipe behind his back when Subieko turned to look at him._

_"It's _not_ the whole chapter, Brom. I thought we'd break it up a bit—go scene by scene, or something. Give you guys more of a chance for input and all."_

_"Mmm…excellent idea. Excellent!"_

_"You're just trying to get on her good side so she'll let you live," Eragon muttered._

_Saphira nudged him aside. _I don't like it at all. I'm so…so…cutesy! I'm a mighty dragon! I want to inspire awe and terror!

_"All in good time, Saphira," Subieko replied. "You're just a baby. Who ever heard of a baby inspiring awe and terror?"_

…fine_, Saphira said._ But can I at least have some scenes with Eragon before I grow up?

_"About that…" Subieko said. "I was thinking you'd grow up slower. _Much_ slower. As in…you wouldn't even be an adult by the time Brom and Eragon leave Carvahall. Is…is that okay?"_

_There was silence for a moment. Then Saphira nodded her great head and lay down to wait for the next part of the story._

_"And what about me?" Eragon said at once. "Can I try to teach Saphira stuff, or something? And take care of her and all? I don't want to just stick her in a tree like in the book! She's my _dragon_!"_

_"Of course, of course," Subieko said, waving a hand dismissively. "Who would just leave their dragon out in the wilderness like that? And I hope you're okay with the trapping idea. I just figured that if you're such a good hunter, you'd probably have at least a few traps for the winter, when you can't really camp out in the Spine…"_

_"Yeah…yeah, I like that," Eragon said. He was about to add more when Durza knocked him aside._

_"Subieko! What about _me_? When's _my_ chapter coming?"_

_"Soon, really soon! It's going to be the one right before Eragon and Brom leave, okay? So that's…erm…the one after this? Or maybe the one _after_ the one after this. But within the next chapter or two. Just be patient—it'll be a really good scene, I promise!"_

_"…okay. Now hurry up!" Durza said. Subieko started typing at once._


	6. Bound

Author's Note: Er...sorry about the long delay--APs and stuff...not fun. Anyway, here's the next chapter! I'm not sure if it's any good, I just finished writing it--I'm still trying to get over a bad case of writer's block. So, hopefully it will be enjoyable. and thank you to my beloved readers and reviewers, who rock my socks.

Chapter 4: Bound

_"What happened to 'in the next chapter or two'?" Durza asked._

_Subieko laughed nervously. "Er…well…I decided to make the chapters shorter, so it would be easier for the readers…that way they don't have to slog through so much text at once, and I can put out chapters more frequently…"_

_"But that means I have to wait even longer for my chapter!"_

_"But I'll be writing them faster, so it's actually _less_ time to wait," Subieko said. Durza stopped to think about this, and just as Subieko had anticipated, Eragon and Saphira pushed him aside to make their demands for the chapter._

I want a scene where we play_, Saphira said._ I'm always so serious, unless I'm cracking bad jokes. I want a fun scene.

_"Sure thing, sweetie," Subieko said, patting the dragon. "What about you, Erry?"_

_"Stop calling me that!" Eragon said. "And yeah, I agree with Saphira. And…um…"_

_"What is it, Eragon?"_

_Eragon shuffled his feet. "Well…I don't want to go to Brom for help. I can figure out how to take care of Saphira myself! He doesn't even tell me anything that useful!"_

_"What!?" said Brom, hurrying over from across the room. "I do _so_ tell you useful things! I have ancient dragon rider knowledge that you would never in your wildest dreams imagine—"_

_"Brom, calm down!" Subieko said. "You'll get your turn. And Eragon's supposed to be, what, fifteen? No fifteen year old wants to admit they need help. He definitely wouldn't go to you."_

_"…fine," Brom said. "But I want an even bigger part in the chapter where we leave, then!"_

_"Even bigger part…sure, Brom," Subieko said._

_"That was nice of you," Eragon said as Brom wandered off again._

_Subieko just smirked._

_"What? What is it?" Eragon asked._

Bigger is all relative_, Saphira said._

_Eragon went pale. "From now on, I'm making my requests much more specific…"_

_Subieko didn't say a word as she started to type._

"Shh—just be quiet till we get out of sight!" Eragon whispered, resisting the urge to glance at his pack. His dragon was safely tucked away inside, hidden from the eyes of Garrow and Roran. They had been glad to see Eragon so anxious to start setting the traps and searching for game to supplement their harvest. Neither even noticed Eragon's unusually full pack.

There was faint cheep as Eragon's pack shifted slightly. Eragon quickened his pace; he didn't want to keep the dragon inside it for too long. He was as impatient to let it out as it was to be free.

'The dragon.' It suddenly hit Eragon that he hadn't given the dragon a name. He didn't even know if it was male or female. Guilt washed over him; he would have to see to that as soon as they reached the little stream that ran through the woods behind the farm.

There it was. It was more a brook than a stream here, but as it wound its way into the Spine, the babbling water widened into a river. Eragon had never dared follow its course farther than a mile or two. The Spine was a dangerous place even for experienced hunters.

With several loud squawks and a thump, the dragon fought its way out of the confines of Eragon's pack. It flopped down into the snow, then shrieked at the cold. Eragon sighed.

"C'mere, I'll carry you…shhh…"

The dragon climbed into his arms and settled itself on his shoulders, making a noise that reminded Eragon of a cat's purr. Its scales were cool against his skin, but it felt warm…not like a lizard.

_I don't know anything about dragons_, Eragon realized. _How am I supposed to take care of it?_

"I'll worry about that later," Eragon said. "Names…names…"

He gazed at the dragon as the sun reflected off its bright scales. It was so beautiful, it reminded Eragon of the jewels he had seen once or twice when the merchants came each year. A beautiful blue gem…what had its name been?

"I know—I'll call you Sapphire, because you look just like a sapphire!"

The dragon snapped at Eragon's nose. A wave of alien thought swept through Eragon's mind, understood only as a flash of color and a rush of sound. He concentrated as hard as he could, but all he could make out was a ripple of irritation…and…

And a flash of something that was distinctly, if indefinably, feminine. "So you're a girl," Eragon muttered, smiling. He had learned something new about the dragon—about _his_ dragon. "Okay…ummm…how about Saphira!?"

The dragon—or rather, Saphira—chattered happily, nudging Eragon with her small nose. Eragon laughed, feeling her joy as well as his own. "I'll set the traps, and then we can play, all right?"

Eragon set out his homemade traps as quickly as he could, checking to make sure their leather straps hadn't become frayed and their wooden frames had no cracks. Up the stream they walked, placing traps down at intervals. Eragon knew from long experience that the stream was the best place for the traps—many animals came there for water, and the unwary made a tasty meal for him and his family.

Eragon felt a tug of impatience from Saphira. He hurriedly finished setting out the last of the traps, then turned…only to find her nowhere in sight.

"Saphira? Saphira!?"

Eragon dashed back into the forest, frantically searching for tracks, when something struck him squarely in the back. Caught off guard, he toppled forward into the snow. There was a rustling of wings and the hissing sound that Eragon thought was the dragon version of laughter.

"You little monster—you scared me!" Eragon said, picking himself up and brushing off the snow. Saphira was clambering back onto the low tree branch she had jumped onto him from.

"How'd you get up there?" Eragon said, scratching Saphira's head. She was only two days old, and already she could climb, and jump, and even communicate with him…well, sort of. Eragon felt a touch of panic—just how fast was she going to grow? If she kept up this rate, then pretty soon there'd be no hiding her at all.

Saphira cooed softly, nudging Eragon again.

"It's nothing," Eragon said. "I was just thinking about…it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Eragon wasn't sure whether Saphira could actually understand his words, but she seemed to get the idea, although he felt a hint of doubt.

The two spent the rest of the day tramping about in the woods, staying far enough from the traps to avoid scaring away any game. Eragon talked to Saphira almost constantly. He told her the names of all the plants he knew, how to tell which way was north, how to tell when a storm was coming, how to track an animal even over the hardest, driest ground—everything he could think of. He felt a little silly—there was no way the dragon could actually understand his language—but she seemed to enjoy listening to him. She even added her own comments occasionally, in piping whistles and squeaks.

Days passed in the same way. If Garrow and Roran noticed how much time Eragon was spending out in the forest, they didn't say a word. Several times, Eragon thought about telling them everything, but each time something held him back. He wasn't sure what they would say about a dragon, but Eragon had a feeling they wouldn't be quite as pleased as he was.

To Eragon's relief, Saphira grew very little as the weeks passed. She was still small enough to fit in his pack, but somehow she had become even harder to conceal. What she lacked in size, she made up for in sheer curiosity. Saphira got into everything—it didn't matter how well Eragon tied it closed, how high he put it on the shelves, how heavy or thick its covering. Saphira managed to find a way through.

But Eragon didn't care about catching extra food for Saphira, or about continually chasing her out of his belongings. He didn't care about having to hide her, or about staying out in the cold to play with her. He couldn't remember ever being happier in his life. He had long since stopped thinking of her as simply 'his dragon,' and started thinking of her as a friend—his best friend. Everything was perfect.

Eragon should have known better than to think it could last.

_"What did you think, Saphira? I made you a bit more playful…"_

_The dragon shrugged noncommittally. Eragon was pouting. "Subieko…it was short! And it was dull! Nothing happened! It just said Saphira and I hung out a lot!"_

_"Yeah, well, what did you want, huh? We haven't gotten to the part where your adventure starts, I don't want to drag this opening stuff out too long!"_

_"I thought we were telling it the way _we_ wanted it," Murtagh said to Arya in an undertone._

_Arya sniffed, pointedly not looking at Subieko. "It seems plans have changed," she said delicately._

_"Shh!" Brom said. "Just go along with it, will you? This is life and death, you know!"_

_"For you, maybe," Murtagh said, rolling his eyes._

_"All of you, be quiet!" Subieko said, glaring at them. "I have a much more _important_ character to talk to," she added with a nasty look._

_Durza was practically jumping and down. "So I'm next, right? Right? My chapter's next, right, Subieko!?"_

_Subieko grinned slowly. "That's….right! It's finally here! Woohoo!"_

_The two of them did a happy dance while the other characters cringed with contact embarrassment._

_"Must she do that?" Eragon asked, arms folded tightly across his chest._

_Saphira gave a low, grumbling sigh. _She's the author. She has a right to be insane.

_"I don't remember agreeing to this," Murtagh muttered, burying his face in his hands._

_"At least you don't appear for a while yet!" Eragon said, shoving Murtagh back._

_Suddenly, everyone froze. Durza, terrifying Shade, evil sorcerer, King Galbatorix's right-hand monster, had appeared behind them. The look on his face told them that they should be very, very careful about what they said next._

_"Be quiet, guys—Subieko needs to concentrate so she can write my chapter!" Durza said. Plunking down on the couch beside Murtagh, he began to munch absently on a bowl of popcorn._

_The other characters shielded their eyes. Oh, this…this did not bode well._


	7. Enter the King

Author's note: Whee, fast update this time! Wow...after all this time hyping the Durza chapter, I hope it measures up to expectations...and seems there are some Durza fans reading, after all. laughs Actually, I didn't really like Durza at all originally...but then when I was writing this, he seemed like too cool a character to waste, and it just kinda snowballed from there...;;; Enjoy the chapter, everyone!

Chapter 5: Enter the King

_Eragon shuddered. He had seen many terrible things in his journey through the Inheritance Trilogy (well, the first two books anyway), but this…this took the cake. The other characters were equally horrified. Torture at Durza's hands suddenly seemed a mild punishment to Arya. Having his father throw a sword at him as a child was child's play to Murtagh. Death seemed like nothing to Brom._

_Galbatorix was sitting beside Subieko as she typed away. He was smiling. Tears were streaming down his face._

_It was an unholy sight. The characters were too shocked even to flee for the sake of their remaining sanity._

_Durza was the only one unaffected, or rather, he was the only one not frightened. He was glaring at Galbatorix with his arms crossed, slouched at Subieko's other side. "Subieeeekoooo…I thought this was supposed to be _my_ chapter!"_

_"Silence, minion!" Galbatorix said, his voice echoing as though he was in a tunnel._

_Subieko rolled her eyes. "Look, Galby, you've got to stop being so cliché. Real people's voices don't echo when they talk normally—not even villains! And furthermore, I'm gonna need some motivation here. Why do you want to conquer Alagaseia, or whatever it is you're trying to do?"_

_"You know, you should really learn how to spell 'Alagaseia'…"_

_"Shut up, Brom—I've got my eye on you…"_

_"Subieko, what about me?" Durza said. "I waited all this time! Galbatorix is just some bald loser—he can't steal my scene!"_

_"That reminds me," Galbatorix said. "I don't want to be bald. And I don't want a mustache. I want cool armor, like pre-losing the Ring Sauron from the Lord of the Rings movie."_

_Subieko shook her head. "Galby, I won't make you bald, but I can't turn you into Sauron—he was a crazy immortal spirit guy from beyond the sea! You're still a human, even if you are a Dragon Rider."_

_"…fine," Galbatorix muttered. "Then I at least want a cool crown, or something."_

_"A helmet," Subieko said firmly. "You'll have a cool helmet. You're a warrior, not some useless weakling."_

_Galbatorix nodded. He would have agreed to anything at this point—he was lost in the bliss of finally, _finally_ getting to appear! Two whole books without so much as a line…oh, payback was sweet…_

_"But—Subieko!" Durza wailed. "I thought _I_ was your favorite character!"_

_"You _are_, Durza," Subieko said kindly, leaning down from her chair to ruffle Durza's hair. The other characters shivered. "Well, I like Murtagh too. And Brom. I've gotten attached to all you guys. But anyway it'll be a really good scene—you'll see. Galby's just excited because he's never been in a book before."_

_"He was in the whole trilogy with us," Arya said. "He's the main villain—how stupid are you?"_

_Subieko gave Arya a very cold look. "Arya, please keep in mind that you're going to be reappearing as Durza's prisoner soon, and I like him a whole lot more than I like you…and just because he's a character in the trilogy doesn't mean he's actually _in_ the books. He doesn't even have one line! We never even get a glimpse of him! Not so much as an evil laugh! He deserves better…"_

_Durza sniffed loudly._

_"Besides," Subieko added, "Durza can't be a good villain if he doesn't have a good evil boss."_

_"Really!?" Durza said, looking up._

_"Really," Subieko said. "Now help me out, guys—we're starting!"_

The whispers surrounded him like the buzzing of a thousand insects, all seeking his blood. Well, they had it—the mighty Shade, the King's favorite, his loyal right hand, fallen at last. They were glad to see his comeuppance, he knew it. They were all jealous, and always had been. They hated him for being promoted so quickly, for becoming the King's General, the highest-ranking officer in the King's army.

Durza knew full well that they wouldn't have disliked him nearly as much if he had been human. That was the real reason for the malicious rumors they spread behind his back, the whispers when they thought he couldn't hear him. To them, he was on the same level as the Urgals the King used as human—well, not human—shields. But the other men knew they were only shock troops, easily replaceable. It was different with Durza.

Durza silently entered the throne room; the guards on either side of the door didn't dare say a word as he passed them. As soon as the doors were closed, however, they began gossiping in hushed voices.

"He gives me the shivers," one of the men, Corrin.

His partner, Julian, nodded. "What did you expect? He's a monster. He gives _everyone_ the shivers, Cor."

"It's not right," Corrin muttered. "It's just not right. Why should he be promoted over us, or anyone else? Just because he's got some—some weird powers or something. They shouldn't've let him in the army at all."

Julian shrugged. "They say he's got powerful magic, though. And nobody can kill a Shade. It's just not done."

"Why's he serving us, then? What's he getting out it? Tell me that one," Corrin said.

"How should I know? The King trusts him, and that's all we soldiers need to know. It's dangerous to learn too much about the higher-ups. Besides…best not to talk too loudly about that—Shade. Every time he looks at me, it gives me a chill. Those weird red eyes…people say he can read minds. Maybe he really can."

"Yeah, right," Corrin said, but he sounded unsure. "Anyway, he's on the outs now—lost whatever it was he was looking for. So much for the King's pet, huh?"

"Too right," Julian muttered. He smiled in grim satisfaction.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Ah…_Durza_. Come in, come in…"

Durza stepped forward into the center of the room. Standing there before the throne, he swallowed hard. Something in the King's voice made him very nervous.

"What have you to report, General?"

Durza stood straighter and stared at a spot just below the King's left knee. "I…have not been able to find anything more from the prisoner. Yet."

Durza resisted the urge to take a step backward as the King's gaze focused squarely on him. "I have given you every resource, Durza. Every member of this army is at your disposal. And yet…"

The King didn't bother to finish his sentence. Durza continued to stare at the King's knee. What could he say? That the elf was extremely resilient and skilled in mental defense? That the troops supposedly at his disposal were worthless because they had no magic? That he needed more time? No—the King would never listen. It was best to remain silent and hope it would be over soon.

"Durza, I am seriously disappointed in you," the King said, his voice remaining pleasant and conversational. That only worried Durza more—the friendlier the King sounded, the worse things were about to get. "I accepted you into the army when you were alone and helpless—without my protection, you surely would have been destroyed. I even allowed you to rise through the ranks—to become the General of the army. I chose _you_ for the most vital of missions. My trust in you has been explicit."

The King had gotten down from his throne. He was pacing toward Durza slowly, like a tiger talking its prey. Durza held himself still, refusing to so much as blink. He had gained his position by showing more strength, more will, more discipline than a human. It would never do to lose composure now.

"You understand my dismay, don't you? You understand why I am _so very disappointed _in you, don't you, Durza!?"  
Durza was sent sprawling backward by a sharp blow from Galbatorix. The King's honey-sweet smile always dissolved into rage in the end. It was best not to move; getting up before he was dismissed would be seen as an act of defiance.

"Durza, you are a valuable commander; your skills in magic are far superior to my other troops, and you are far stronger than a human. So I will give you one more chance. Locate the egg for me, and your past failures shall be forgotten at once."

Galbatorix gestured to Durza to leave as he mounted his throne again. As Durza reached the door, however, Galbatorix paused.

"Oh, and Durza…?"

"Yes, my Lord?" Durza said, clenching his fist so tightly it was painful.

"I do hope you won't fail me again. I shouldn't like to have to…_dispose_ of you."

Durza took a deep breath, willing his voice not to shake. "Yes, my Lord." He left the room as quickly as possible, speaking to no one. It was time to get answers from the elf…by any means necessary.

_"So…what did you think?" Subieko asked, biting her lip. Durza was reading through the chapter, shoving his bangs out of his eyes at intervals. Galbatorix was trying to read over his shoulder, but Durza kept shoving him out of the way._

_"It's so short!" Durza said. "I was hoping for a long chapter."_

_"But the readers!" Subieko said. "I don't want to make them slog through loads of text, and besides, the chapter says everything it needs to. I didn't want to just make it drag on and on for no reason."_

_"Okay," Durza grumbled. He was about to add more when Galbatorix snatched the laptop away._

_"Ha! Now, let's see…"_

_"Hey—I was reading it first!" Durza said._

_Subieko grabbed his arm. "Just let it go…no need to annoy him any more than necessary. Anyway, what did you think about the chapter!?"_

_There was a moment of silence. Then Durza clapped his hands, grinning fiendishly. "It was really, really good! I was in it! I was the main character!"  
Eragon's face was pale as he watched the two of them. "Something tells me this isn't a good thing…"_

_"Oh, you think?" Murtagh said. "I can't believe she likes Durza—I'm a way cooler character! And even _you're_ better than that Shade."_

_"What do you mean, even me!?" Eragon said at once. "Anyway…the two of them might be plotting against us—we have to find out what they're saying!"_

_"They don't look like they're plotting," Brom said. "They look more like they're jumping around squealing. They're just happy…I think…"_

_"I'm telling you, that's not normal behavior! Who actually enjoys writing about the villains!?"_

_"What was that, Eragon?" Subieko said from behind them. Eragon jumped and spun around, guilt painted all over his face._

_"I…er…nothing, Subieko," he mumbled._

_"Good," Subieko said. "Now…next chapter is your big moment, guys—you leave Carvahall! So let's get ready, everyone!"_

_"Does…does that mean I'm going to die?" Garrow whispered in a haunted voice._

_"What are you still doing here?" Subieko asked. "I thought we kicked you out ages ago!"_

_Durza got up to drag Garrow out of the room. The wails of "Nooooo….I'm too young to die!" faded as they got farther away._

_"Honestly, he's not even young. Big baby…"_

_Brom gulped as Subieko began typing. _


	8. Flight

Author's Note: See, I told you I'd be updating more often! Unfortunately I still have writer's block on my other stories...but that's okay, right? ...right? Yeah, anyway...thanks to all reviewers! Aaaaand...yeah. Read on!

Chapter 6: Flight

_"Wait, Subieko—we can't leave Carvahall yet," Brom said._

_"Why not?"_

_"Because there are so many things that haven't happened yet! Saphira can't even fly—how will Eragon escape the Ra'zac? And I haven't told him all about dragons! You didn't even mention that we're friends!"_

_Subieko sighed, her brow furrowed. "Brom…must you keep annoying me with these meaningless details? This isn't just the same old story! This is a whole _new_ story, and the stuff that happened in the book doesn't _have_ to happen here! Now what do you guys want for this chapter?"_

_"I don't want Garrow to die," Eragon said. "I don't want the farm to burn, either. Actually, I just don't want the Ra'zac to come."_

_"No way!" Durza said at once. "_I_ found out where the egg is, _I_ get to decide if the Ra'zac show up!"_

_"He's right, Eragon," Subieko said. "The Ra'zac are coming, whether you like it or not. Now what do you want to _do_ about it?"_

_"You're just saying that because you like Durza better than me," Eragon mumbled._

_Subieko nodded. "Of course I do. Right now, he's way cooler than you. But don't worry, Eragon—someday, you too can be a cool character. And that starts now…so let's get started. Ready to leave Carvahall?"_

_"…fine," Eragon said. Sighing, he slumped down next to Subieko and began the story again._

A cold wind fluttered the hems of their long black cloaks as they pushed forward. The snow was thick on the ground, and the going was difficult, but there was no stopping them now. What their master commanded, they would do, come what may. They were the stuff of nightmares, all of the evil and ugliness in life.

They were living death.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon shivered in the cool morning air. Saphira, tucked safely in his pack, stirred slightly, but she remained as still and silent as she could. She and Eragon had become quite skilled at hiding her presence. Eragon still felt a squirm of guilt every time he thought of how he was deceiving Roran and Uncle Garrow, but he knew there was no other choice. They would be frightened if they knew about Saphira…

"Finally!" Eragon said, seeing Carvahall ahead. He had offered to go out hunting in the Spine today—he wanted to show Saphira all of his favorite haunts. Uncle Garrow hadn't liked the idea, but had given in when Eragon said he would only stay out for the day. They did need the meat, after all—no matter how many traps Eragon set, there was a limit to how much game would wander into them.

Saphira stirred again. "Shh…it's just a little longer. Soon you can come out, okay?" Eragon said. He felt a touch in his mind…agreement? Eragon wasn't completely sure—he was still having trouble communicating with Saphira.

Eragon hoisted his pack as carefully as he could, settling it more comfortably on his shoulders. Since he was planning to go out anyway, Uncle Garrow had asked him to take a bridle to get fixed—one of the straps had frayed and broken, and they would need their horse for the plow soon. Once that minor task was done, he and Saphira were free.

Eragon whistled a cheerful tune as he strode through Carvahall. As he approached the tanner's, it suddenly occurred to him that it had been quite a while since he last visited Brom. He really ought to go say hello to him—the old man had always been kind to Eragon, willing to answer his endless questions about ancient legends of magic and dragons and heroes. Eragon felt a thrill as he thought that he was now a part of those legends…he had found a dragon.

"What do you think?" Eragon said softly, making sure no one was watching him. He didn't want to answer any questions about why he was talking to his pack. "Want to go visit Brom? It means you'll have to stay in the pack a little longer…"

Saphira stirred in his pack, making a soft crooning sound. Eragon thought that she might be agreeing—he felt a trickle of interest coming into his mind from her.

"All right…we'll just stop by for a little bit."

Eragon turned left and made his way toward Brom's house.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"I already told you—I don't know anything about some blue stone! Where in the King's name would I get a damn blue stone? I got better things to do."

The robed man turned away with a soft curse. None of the villagers had been able to provide him with any information about the egg, and he was sure that his partner had had no better luck. He sensed the presence of the egg…the presence of the dragon. But where was it? Was it possible that not even one of these fool villagers had noticed something so blatantly important, so obviously special?

"Did you find anything?"

"No," the man said, turning to his partner. "You?"

He shook his head. "You don't think…?"

"What?"  
"You don't think it…_chose_ someone? That it's here somewhere, hidden—protected?"

The man was silent for a moment. "…then…if we don't find it today…we'll burn this place to the ground and pick its corpse out of the ashes. If the…" He lowered his voice, glancing around. A figure in the alley behind him ducked back, and the man didn't notice him. "If the dragon has already chosen someone, there's no use in bringing it back. Either we find that person and take him with us…or we kill him."

His partner nodded. "Or her. Can't rule anything out. But fine—we search for whoever has it. If they refuse to come with us, or we can't, this place burns."

The two walked off to continue their search. In the alley behind them, the figure slid to the ground, breathing hard. He was running out of time…!

Brom pushed himself to his feet, hardening his resolve. He was the only who could stop this now…and there was no time for hesitation.

Pulling the hood of his cloak over his face, Brom raced off down the street with surprising speed for such an old man.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Hmmm…guess he's not home," Eragon said, frowning at Brom's closed door. Several minutes of pounding on it as hard as he could had not produced any results, and he turned to leave.

"Eragon—thank the gods, I found you in time—come inside, quickly!"

Eragon was too stunned to protest as Brom threw open the door and pulled Eragon inside, slamming and locking it behind them. The old man then released him and dashed about, pulling things out of drawers and shoving them into a pack, riffling through stacks of papers, and generally creating even more of a mess than there already was.

"Brom, what's going on?" Eragon said, taking a hasty step back to avoid being knocked over by Brom as he rushed past. In his pack, Saphira squirmed, feeling Eragon's nervousness.

"There's not much time—how to explain—" Brom took a deep breath and pushed Eragon into a chair, then sat down across from him. "Where to begin…? Eragon—I know this will sound incredible, but you must trust me. We have to get out of here—now."

Eragon was too stunned to speak. He wondered if this might all be some strange dream.

"The Ra'zac—they're monsters, you don't want to know any more than that—are here, they're searching for you and your dragon, if they find you—"

"WHAT!?" Eragon leapt up and ran for the door, his only thought to protect Saphira.

"Eragon, wait!"

If it had been anyone else, Eragon would have kept going, but he had to pause to undo the lock, and in that pause his mind slowed down enough to think. Brom was his friend, and Eragon had always been able to trust him. He knew all about dragons—who better to help him care for Saphira? And…

Eragon didn't know why he felt his secret was safe with Brom. His instincts had always served him well as a hunter, and now his instincts were telling him to stay. Eragon let go of the doorknob and turned to face Brom.

"Eragon," Brom said, grasping his arm. "Eragon." He paused, searching for words. "I know this sounds mad, I know it doesn't make sense right now, but you must believe me, I mean you no harm—I'm trying to help you. You are being hunted, and if you stay here, then the whole village will be destroyed, and believe me, they have the power to do that. We must run, and now!"

"But…Uncle Garrow, Roran…they…"

"They'll be killed too, if you don't leave," Brom said. He turned to finish packing for himself and Eragon. Their supplies would hold until they reached another town.

Eragon was about to protest again when he felt a wave of fear from Saphira. She didn't know what was going on, but she felt Eragon's alarm, and she was afraid for him. "Shhh," he whispered. "It's all right. We're safe."

Brom was watching him with an odd look on his face. "Are you ready to go?"

Eragon hesitated for a moment. Why did he believe Brom? He had no reason to…he had no proof…Brom was just a crazy old man…

But somehow…he felt that Brom might just be right. Someone had sent that egg—maybe they'd finally come back for it—

"Eragon, hurry!"

Eragon followed him out the door. They started down the street, when suddenly Brom pulled Eragon into a doorway, covering them both with his cloak. "Shh—don't move!"

Eragon was at a loss to understand why Brom was so terrified—he could feel the old man shaking. But then he felt a chill run down his spine. Slowly, he turned his head to look down the road. Two figures stood there, their tattered black robes whipping around them in the wind. A wave of horror and disgust overwhelmed Eragon; it was like a physical thing, an odor of death and decay, a touch of despair. They stepped closer, and Eragon felt the urge to flee. In his pack, he could feel Saphira frantically trying to get out. He wanted to comfort her, but he was frozen, unable to make a sound.

Brom gripped his shoulder. He didn't dare speak, but Eragon felt a little better. He was still in Carvahall, peaceful Carvahall, he had nothing to fear…

And then, as they came closer, he heard them speaking. Their voices were strangely warped, as if their mouths were malformed, but he could understand them. Each syllable made Eragon want to retch.

"There's no point in this—we're never going to find them. Let's just burn the place now and get out of here."

"We're sure it's here. You agree?"

Brom shuddered. He tugged Eragon's hand, and the two of them raced as quietly as they could down the road in the opposite direction. Eragon had no idea where they were going, or how long it took—he was fleeing in pure terror, a blind panic that was controlled only by Brom's grasp on his wrist. At last they stopped, and Eragon fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

"Wh—wh—"

"They were the Ra'zac," Brom said, panting. "They are…horrible. Pray we don't meet them again."

"Carvahall—Roran and Garrow, those creatures said—"

"Don't worry," Brom said, laying a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "Now that you and your dragon have left, they'll have no reason to stay in the village. They'll sense that her presence is gone. They're safe…we're not."

"They'll come after us…won't they?" Eragon said softly, getting to his feet. He opened his pack, and Saphira burst out, launching herself into his arms, shivering. "Shh…it's okay. We're safe now…shhh…."

Slowly, her quiet mews stopped, and she was still. Eragon hugged her gently, then turned to Brom. "How did you know about Saphira—and the Ra'zac? What's…what's going on?"

Brom shouldered his pack and handed the other to Eragon. "Here—carry this. Your dragon can ride in your old pack, she won't be able to keep up on foot and you can't carry her all the time."

Saphira hissed, glaring at Brom. Eragon resisted the urge to laugh. "Er…she's not _my_ dragon. Her name is Saphira, and we're…each other's?"

A smile spread across Brom's face. "Ah…of course. Pleased to meet you, Saphira—I meant no offense."

Saphira made a clucking sound and sat up straighter, arching her neck. "I think she forgives you," Eragon said.

"You think?"

"I…can't really tell what she means yet. I kind of understand, most of the time."

Brom nodded. He seemed like he was about to ask more questions, but then he started. "Ah—in all the excitement, I'm losing my wits. Come on, come on, let's get under cover. We can sit down somewhere and wait for the Ra'zac to get farther away, and talk this out."

Eragon nodded, and followed Brom into the woods at the edge of the road. Carvahall was just barely outside the wilderness, and in only a few paces they were surrounded by thick trees. Brom and Eragon settled themselves beneath a large pine, and Saphira hopped out of Eragon's arms to play in the fallen needles.

"Brom…" Eragon stopped. He didn't know what to ask first. Then a pressing question came to mind. "Brom, if they could sense Saphira, then won't they be able to just find us now? They're feel us sitting here!"

Brom shook his head. "No, they won't. They felt her only faintly in the village—they knew she was there, but they didn't know where exactly she was. And they only sensed her because they were actually searching for her—it's a form of scrying, and it's imprecise. We should be safe, as long as we don't stay in any one place for too long."

"Scrying?"

"It's a magical technique—but there's time for that later. Eragon, do you understand what this means?"

Eragon swallowed hard, looking at Saphira. "It means…the real owner of the egg wants it back." His face darkened. "I won't let them take her away—I don't care what happens!"

Brom sighed, shaking his head. "No, Eragon. That's…not what it means. I'm sorry to do it like this—I don't want to overwhelm you, you must already be in shock over all of this…"

"Brom…tell me what's going on—from the beginning."

Brom nodded wearily. "Well…I supposed I should start with this." Then, to Eragon's shock, he yanked at his beard and his white hair, and they fell away. Underneath, Brom's hair was iron gray, cut short and thinning, and his beard was a mass of gray stubble.

"Wh—you—what?" Eragon managed to get out. Suddenly, the old storyteller he'd known since he was a child was turning into someone completely different.

"I…had a past to flee from. I disguised myself and came to Carvahall, thinking it would be a quiet place to settle down…I never dreamed that this might come to me. Eragon…you're a dragon rider. The last dragon rider, I should think—I had thought the dragons were completely wiped out, save for the King's. You and Saphira are linked now—equal partners, connected more deeply than you can imagine. I don't know where Saphira's egg came from, but it came to you for a reason—you were meant to have it."

"I'm a…dragon rider?" Eragon said slowly, shaking his head. "No—no, Brom, I can't be, I'm not—"

"Not what?" Brom demanded. "You are everything you need to be. Eragon, you have to run, for your own safety and your family's. But I'll come with you—I'll train you. And someday…"

"…someday, I'll return," Eragon said softly. "Someday—when those Raz things aren't looking for me anymore—" He smiled tentatively, barely daring to hope that it might be soon.

Brom sighed again, more softly this time. He knew better.

_"Well?" Subieko said, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted._

_"…er," Brom said._

_"Yeah, yeah, I know," Subieko said. "It sucks. But it's not _my_ fault—blame Chris. His plot just jumps all of a sudden! Eragon, even _you_ wouldn't just run off and accept some mysterious destiny at the drop of a hat!"_

_"But that's what you made me do!" Eragon protested. "I just agree to leave home with Brom when I have no idea what's going on!"_

_Subieko shrugged irritably. "Whatever. The Ra'zac freaked you out and you realized Brom was right. Anyway, the egg came to you by magic or whatever, it wouldn't be hard to convince you you're in danger!"_

_Eragon folded his arms tightly across his chest. Saphira settled herself down next to him, glaring. _I hardly got any part at all! I just sat in his pack! I thought you were going to give me a bigger part!

_"I _am_, Saphira! But in this chapter there's a lot of action, everything's moving at once—no one has time for a lot of talking. Soon you'll be doing all kinds of stuff, okay?"_

_Saphira and Eragon stomped off in a huff, and Subieko sat back, sighing. None of the other characters dared to disturb her—she was clearly in a bad move, and they didn't want to risk what she might do to their characters in the story._

_"Um…Subieko…?"_

_Subieko rubbed her temples. "What is it, Durza?"_

_"…I'm not going to be in the story again until Eragon kills me, am I?" Durza said, dropping into a chair with his chin in his hands._

_"No—of course not! Well, actually…there's kind of a problem with that."_

_"What problem?" Eragon said, running over. Saphira, Brom, and Murtagh came in their wake. Arya was pretending not to be interested, although her pointed ears were pricked in their direction._

_Subieko shuffled her feet, looking at the floor. "Well…I really want to do more chapters with you, Durza, and bring you in earlier, Murtagh. You're such cool characters, and you hardly get any parts! But, see, the plot doesn't have a lot of extra room for it, and I'm not sure it would be okay for me to keep switching the POV from chapter to chapter…"_

_"POV?" Eragon said._

_"You know, the point of view," Subieko said. "Like, the last chapter was sort of from your POV. Well, third person limited from you POV." Seeing the dazed looks on the characters' faces, Subieko changed her mind. "Never mind that—it's just who the chapter mostly focuses on. I was thinking of maybe having more chapters focusing on what Durza's doing all this time, and what Murtagh's doing, because he just pops in later and he says he's chasing the Ra'zac, but he's so mysterious, who knows?"_

_"Wait!" Murtagh said. "I'm supposed to be mysterious—you can't tell the readers all about me_ yet_!"_

_"But at least you should be in the story sooner!" Subieko said. "And if we do chapters with Durza, Arya gets to be in the story more too."_

_Suddenly Arya was shoving the others aside. "Do it! Do it _at once_!" she said, stamping her foot._

_"Er…"_

_"I think you should do it too," Durza said. "Please, Subieko? Please?"_

_Subieko frowned. "Hmmm…well, I'd _like_ to…let's leave it up to the readers. If they'd like to see more of you guys, we can work it in. And the plot's going to go crazy-different soon, so there's lots of room for changes!"_

_"But what if the readers don't like me!?" Durza said._

_"You idiot—of course they don't like you. But they'll like _me_, so it'll be fine," Arya said._

_Murtagh just shrugged and went to sit back down by the window. 'Cause he's just cool like that._

_"Don't worry, guys…it'll work out," Subieko said. "Now, I'm not sure what the next chapter will be about yet…or actually, I don't know _who_ it should be about. So let's start brainstorming…we have to figure out where this story's going!"_

_The characters all sat down together around the table and started talking. There was no way they were getting left out of the plot!_

Author's Note #2: So, yes, I'm not COMPLETELY sure where the plot should go next...I have a general idea worked out, but some of the details are a liiiitle fuzzy. Sooo...suggestions, please? They would be very, very, very, very (very to infinity) welcome! And I'm sorry this chapter kinda sucks--I know Eragon runs off rather suddenly, but I couldn't have Brom explain this to him for a bajillion years, and I didn't want to kill Garrow. Eragon has enough problems without be scarred for life right at the start of the story, and I want him to have a little more childlike-innocent-ness for now...yeah okay I'm ranting. Time for me to shut up, hope you liked the chapter, and please tell me where you'd like the plot to go next...ideas are always welcome.


	9. Trapped

Author's Note: ...I'm not sure if this chapter a) makes sense or b) reads well...I'm having some writer's block. But, anyway, it's an all-new bit. As in, it's not based on a scene from the book. And to my beloved reviewers: thanks for the input! Yes...Murtagh definitely needs to get in there somehow. Cause he's just cool like that. And Miss Pookamonga--thanks for the suggestion, this is the Arya chapter! And to everyone who wanted more Durza, Murtagh, and Arya, yes, these characters WILL be making more appearances...because they just don't get much facetime in the book. To my anonymous reviewer S: thanks for your input, also! But if you have a suggestion about the format, please tell me--suggestions are good. I love suggestions, really. And I think your caps-lock key may be stuck down. But, anyway, enjoy the chapter...because Arya sure isn't.

Oh whoa I forgot what I was going to say: this chapter has Arya imprisoned and all, but I didn't actually describe any torture or anything, because I'm pretty squeamish, so don't worry, no gore.

Chapter 7: Trapped

_"Guess what, Arya…I decided to put you in the next chapter!"_

_"Excellent," Arya said coolly. "You may begin writing at once."_

_"Ehehehe…sure thing," Subieko said, scurrying off with her laptop in her arms. She settled down in a quiet corner, hidden behind a large sofa she had dragged over (with help from Saphira)._

_"Psst—Subieko!"_

_"Ah—don't scare me like that, Durza! What is it?"_

_"Why are you hiding back here?" Durza asked, sitting down next to Subieko._

_Subieko glanced around, then whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but…this chapter is a little…"_

_"What? A little what?"_

_Subieko fiddled with the hem of her jacket, staring at the ground. "Well, um…you're in it too, and Arya's still in prison, and…er…"_

_"And what?" Durza said, perplexed. Normally he would have been ecstatic about being in another chapter, but something seemed fishy about this one._

_"You torture Arya," Subieko finally mumbled in a very, very, _very_ quiet voice._

_"What!?" Durza shrieked, leaping up. "I _what_!?"_

_"Well—you're a villain, you work for Galby, and you're interrogating her—in the book she gets tortured—I mean what else are you supposed to—"_

_The sofa was suddenly pushed aside, and the other characters came crowding in. "What's going on?" Brom asked._

_"Yeah—aren't you supposed to be writing the next chapter, about Arya?" Eragon asked._

_Subieko shrank down as small as possible, shielding her laptop screen from view. "Durza, do something!" she muttered out of the side of her mouth._

_The Shade shifted uncomfortably. "Er…nothing! Nothing at all! Just…y'know…working on the next chapter…"_

_No one moved. They all looked at Durza with mounting suspicion._

_"Tell us what's going on," Eragon said. "What's happening to Arya in the chapter?"_

_Durza's eyes flicked between Subieko and Eragon. On the one hand, Subieko was writing him into significantly more of the story. On the other hand, Eragon _had_ killed him. It wouldn't be a good idea to annoy him, and torturing his love interest would probably qualify._

_"Durza, please—help me out!"_

_Durza swallowed hard. "I…erm…I command to leave or I'll do that magic thing from the prologue!"_

_The characters were understandably less than impressed by this threat. Durza sucked in a deep breath. "Galbatoriiiiiiiiiix!"_

_There was a heavy clunking as Galbatorix thunked over. "What is it _now_, minion?"_

_"There's a huge mob of protagonists about to attack Subieko before she can write more of the story!" Durza said. Seeing Galbatorix looking less than concerned, he added, "And that means you won't get more scenes."_

_Galbatorix turned to the protagonist mob with a very, very dangerous look in his eyes. "What did you say…?"  
Within seconds, the room was empty._

_"Phew—thanks, Durza! You're a lifesaver!" Subieko said, leaning back against the sofa. "Now c'mon, help me write the chapter."_

_"Okay, but…do I really have to torture her?"_

_"…yeah. Sorry."_

_Durza sighed, his chin in his hands. "I _hate_ being a villain."_

_"Cheer up," Subieko said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Eragon will rescue her soon enough, and then you can do other stuff. Okay?"  
__  
"Okay. Now hurry up and write the chapter so I can get it over with!" _

Arya shivered, pulling her torn cloak more tightly about her. Her long black hair hung down over her face as she sat in the corner of her cell, her knees pulled up to her chest. It was so cold, and she was so tired…but she must not relax her vigilance. She had already failed once—she must not do so again. Her own life was irrelevant in comparison.

Even as she told herself this, as she had so many times before, she couldn't suppress a sob. She had never felt so utterly alone in her life, bereft of her weapons, too weak to use her magic, totally defenseless. Arya was not used to feeling vulnerable.

Arya felt a wave of shame. A trained elven warrior should not feel fear in the face of the enemy. She should remember the mission and not think of her own safety, or lack thereof. But she couldn't stop imagining what might be in store for her. They had already forced their way into her mind, pried out the location of the egg and left her feeling sick and violated. There was no way they would stop at that—they knew how much more information she had. The location of the Varden, the identities of its members, the names of Varden agents all over the Empire, the way to the elven lands…

Arya hastily blinked back tears. She should rest. She needed sleep…she wouldn't be able to resist them without sleep… Moving slowly, she lay down on the cold, hard floor of the cell. As careful as she was, Arya still had to bite back a cry of pain. Her left side was a mass of bruises from the Shade's magical blast.

As she drifted into an uneasy sleep, Arya's last thought was of the egg. Was it safe? Had they found it…?

Then the world went dark, and she began to dream.

_In the dream, Arya was standing on an empty road, more of a dirt path than anything. It was surrounded by woodlands on either side, and there was utter silence. It unnerved Arya—the forest should have been filled with the sounds of life. Even the very trees spoke to the elves._

_Then she heard footsteps. She looked down the road and saw two figures approaching, shrouded in black cloaks. They were speaking, but their voices were strange, distorted, as though spoken by misshapen mouths. An aura of fear rolled off of them, and a strange stench drifted through the air._

_Arya wanted to run, but she was frozen. She knew that in a moment they would see her, and she would be caught—they could only be the Ra'zac, most fearsome of monsters. Were they hunting her…or the egg?_

_Then the scene changed. She was in the forest now, and it was night. Two travelers were asleep on the ground, wrapped in what looked like every scrap of cloth they had. One was a gray-haired man with a sword lying on the ground next to him. He stirred every so often, vigilant even in sleep._

_Near him was a young boy—he couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen. His blond hair had fallen into his face as he slept, deeply and peacefully. But no…there was a shadow over his face, a shadow of fear. And in his arms…_

_Arya cried out in shock. There in his arms was a dragon, its thin, filmy wings fluttering slightly as it breathed. It was a brilliant shade of blue, the same color as the egg it had surely come from. Could this mean…?_

_Arya felt herself slipping away, drifting toward waking. "Keep her safe," she called to the boy. "You must keep her safe!" Arya didn't know if he could hear her, or even if he or anything in the dream was real, but she felt very strongly that this boy was out there somewhere, in terrible danger, and only she could warn him._

_The boy stirred, but before Arya could say anything more, the dream faded away…_

"Wake up…_princess_."

Arya groaned, rolling over onto her back as a booted foot slammed into her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered, and slowly the room came into focus. She was in her cell, and standing over her was the Shade.

As she came fully awake, she suddenly realized what he had called her. She was too slow to hide the expression on her face.

"Oh, yes—I know who you are," Durza said. "I saw it in your mind…along with the egg's location. The Ra'zac are on their way to retrieve it as we speak. So you needn't worry about it any longer, princess—I assure you, it's in the safest of hands."

Arya grimaced and spat at him. Durza snorted. "I can only wonder what your mother would say if she saw that."

"Silence!" Arya cried. "Don't you dare speak of my mother, you—you monster!"

Durza smiled, but his eyes were cold. "I would advise you to keep your temper. I can make your stay here very…unpleasant, if you don't."

"You don't frighten me," Arya said, clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

"Of course not," Durza said. He then stood aside for two guards, who pulled Arya to her feet. She gasped at the pain as her sore muscles struggled to support her. When she fell to her knees, the guards laughed.

"And here I thought elves were supposed to be so_ strong_," one of them said, grabbing a fistful of Arya's hair and yanking her up again.

"With a pretty face like this?" the other guard said, stroking her face with his gloved hand. Arya forced herself not to shudder.

"Enjoy it while you can," his partner replied. "Her face won't be so pretty soon enough…"

He shoved Arya out the cell door, and she stumbled again. This time, Durza grabbed her arm and kept her from falling.

"You're dismissed," he said to the guards. They hesitated for a moment, and Durza turned to them, eyes narrowed. "Must I repeat myself?"

He didn't have to. The two humans left as quickly as they could.

"Move," Durza said, pulling Arya forward.

Arya had no choice but to obey. She was forced to lean on the Shade just to stay standing, and her legs ached with every step. She had gone without food for days now, and only a little water. Even an elf couldn't stand such conditions for long.

Arya had no notion of where they were going, or how long it took them. The journey was a haze of pain, ending only when she was pushed onto a small stool in a windowless room. The walls were lined with racks of…Arya looked away, shivering. She didn't want to think about what the Shade might do with those.

Arya heard the door slam shut. She felt as though she had been sealed in a tomb. Behind her, she could hear the Shade pacing.

"I have already taken the egg's location from you, but I'm sure you have plenty of other information the King would be interested in…let's start with the Varden. Where are their headquarters located?"

"I will tell you nothing," Arya said, gritting her teeth.

"You mean you will tell me nothing…willingly," Durza said, his voice soft. "I have found that, with the proper persuasion, everyone talks in the end. There's only so long they can keep up a brave front, whether human or elf." He smiled to himself. "But I must say, elves are the best. They're so very resistant to even the most refined methods of tortu—"

"Shut up!" Arya cried. She knew how undignified it sounded, but she couldn't help it. _Screw representing the elven people_, she thought.

"Why does it bother you? You elves have lost members to the Varden's cause before…it should hardly come as a surprise that you aren't the first elf I've had in my care. I've never yet let a subordinate handle an elf's case…"

"Why do you hate us so?" Arya said. She knew it would be better to remain silent, to keep her will totally focused, but the words kept coming.

"How dare you ask me that!?" Durza said, his voice becoming a hiss as he grabbed Arya's shoulders, nails cutting into her skin. "You deserve to suffer—to die—every last one of you!"

"Your devotion to the King is admirable," Arya said as caustically as she could manage. _What's the matter with him…? Aren't interrogators supposed to hide their emotions?_ Despite her fear, Arya's mind was still sharp. There might be a chance she could use this to her advantage.

Durza took a deep breath, getting control of himself. "Indeed. Now, elf…where are the Varden's headquarters?"

Arya was silent. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and evenly, forcing herself into a state of calm. She had been trained as a warrior—she knew how to focus herself.

Arya felt Durza grasp her wrist, lifting her hand. She bit her lip, knowing what was coming, and tasted blood.

"I will ask you once more," Durza said. Arya remained silent.

Then her hand was on fire.

Durza set the fingernail he had removed on the table. "Well?"

Arya shook her head, her mouth clamped shut, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. Durza grasped her hand again.

Outside in the corridor, the guards posted at the door covered their ears as the screams went on and on.

_"Arya, calm down!" Eragon said, pulling with all his might. Next to him, Brom was also hanging on to Arya, trying to hold her back._

_"Let me go—I am going to _kill_ them!"_

_"I thought elves were nonviolent!" Durza wailed, cowering behind the sofa. Next to him, Subieko was building fortifications out of the sofa cushions._

_"Wow, I haven't built a fort in years—this is so much fun!"_

_"Fun? You call this _fun_!?"_

_"Well, except for the threat of impending doom and all."_

_"You should at least let Durza go," Brom said, trying to be fair. "It was all Subieko's idea."_

_"I don't care!" Arya said. "I'm the heroine—I shouldn't be afraid! I shouldn't get hurt! I definitely shouldn't let them find out where I sent the egg!"_

_"Oh shut up," Murtagh said from the other side of the room, where he was sitting with his hands clamped over his ears. "Horrible stuff happens to the rest of us too, you know."_

_"But it's not supposed to happen to _me_!" Arya said._

_"Get over it, Arya—you're not a Mary-Sue anymore," Murtagh said. Getting up, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him._

_"Great," Subieko said. "Now I can't use him in the next chapter! Oh well…guess he'll have to wait. The next chapter will have Eragon in it…and he starts to figure out that you need his help, Arya, so just calm down already. Sheesh!"_

_Arya was finally subdued by Saphira, who took pity on the other characters and their erstwhile author and knocked her out._

When she wakes up, maybe she'll have calmed down a little.

_Brom raised an eyebrow._

Oh, all right,_ Saphira thought-spoke to Brom. _ So she won't be calm. Maybe the next part with her in it will be written…that should help.

_They all stared down at Arya's still form._

Or not_, Saphira said. Shrugging, she decided to take a nap while Subieko, Eragon, and Brom worked on the next chapter, with Durza reading over their shoulders._


	10. Training

Author's Note: Huh...now that I think about it, this chapter title may not make sense...they don't actually do any training! Oh well. Everyone who said they wanted to see more Murtagh: yeah...me too. So, that's coming up soon. Not in this chapter, though. And Miss Pookamonga: I have no idea how, but while I was reading your review I got a great plot idea...which is why Murtagh is going to be in the next chapter...so, thanks! (and I'm sure all the Murtagh fans thank you, too...laughs) Well, enjoy the chapter. Oh--wait. Thought of something else. I was considering having the characters (the grumpy ones, anyway) hijacking the story and writing their own, extremely AU chapter...any thoughts? I don't whether I'll end up doing it yet. Anyway hope you like the chapter!

Chapter 8: Training

_Subieko flopped down onto the sofa with a gusty sigh. Her laptop was close at hand, its keyboard primed for typing, the document open and waiting. There was only one problem._

_"What's wrong, Subieko?"_

_Subieko sat up, pouting. "Do you _see_ this thing? What do you think is wrong?" she said, gesturing the floor._

_Durza looked at the large, white marble block sitting there. It was heavy. Very, very heavy. "What's that?"_

_"It's a writer's block," Subieko explained. "All writers get them at some point…and they're very hard to get rid of."_

_Durza sat down on the block, tapping it. "Erm…it's a very nice block?" he said, trying to be polite. Why one of the villains would want to be polite was a mystery, but no one noticed. Hopefully._

_Subieko glared at him. "It is _not_ nice, Durza. Writer's blocks are horrible, evil things! They are the ultimate curse of the writer! Well, except for computer crashes without data backup…"_

_"Except for _what_?"_

_"Never mind…it's complicated. Anyway I don't know what should happen next in the story! I mean, you're supposed to…but first, Eragon and Brom…except that they're not going there anymore, and then Arya…" Subieko trailed off, mumbling under her breath. This was going nowhere._

_"I thought Brom and Eragon were chasing the Ra'zac," Durza said, flipping through a copy of _Eragon

_"No, no," Subieko said absently, waving her hand. "That was in the original story, they aren't doing that anymore. I don't know where they're going now, actually…"_

_"So they're not going to meet that Jeod guy, or Angela, or rescue Arya, or—?"_

_"THAT'S IT!"_

_Durza crashed to the ground as the writer's block vanished into thin air. "Ow—what's it?"_

_"I know what should happen next!" Subieko cried, grabbing her PC and typing furiously. "Thanks, Durza—that was perfect timing! Yeah, so now they need to…and then Arya…but instead, you…and then Murtagh…"_

_"…huh?" was all Durza could say._

"Brom…what are we going to do?" Eragon asked. Now that he was thinking about it in the full light of day, it all seemed crazy. "Those—_things_ are gone now, right? So why don't I just go home?"

Brom turned to him, his face stormy. "Don't you understand what's happening? Don't you see what this _means_? You're a dragon rider now, Eragon. There is no 'old life' for you to go back to—that's gone!"

Eragon shook his head, backing away. "No—you're wrong. I'm…I'm not anything like that. I'm a farmer, I…I have a family…"

Brom strode towards him and grabbed his shoulders. "You don't have a choice! What do you think is going to happen to Saphira? She'll grow, and then what? You'll be found in the end. The King will not allow another dragon rider to live alone. Either he will recruit you or he will kill you."

"Never!" Eragon said, clenching his fists. "I'd never side with him—he's evil, everyone knows that! I…I…" He stopped, his anger suddenly draining out of him. Eragon was trapped. He couldn't keep Saphira safe and hidden forever. He knew nothing about how to care for her, nothing about the Empire or even about the King, except for rumors. Suddenly his world seemed very, very small.

"It's all right," Brom said gently. "I'll train you. Dragons _choose_ to hatch, and Saphira chose to hatch for you. This is your destiny…you are a dragon rider now. You will bring the world hope."

Eragon stared at his feet. Suddenly, his whole life had changed. "Brom…I don't understand. You say I'm a—a dragon rider now, but what does that…mean? What am I supposed to do now?"

"The dragons riders protected justice and peace in Alagaseia. Now that you are a dragon rider…now that you have this power, this ability…you must use it. You must use it for all people. This is a _gift_, Eragon—your gift! If you refuse to accept it, you will be as guilty as the King. Evil is only good that is not done."

Brom was silent then, waiting for Eragon's response. The boy needed time to think it over—he had just given Eragon a great deal to think about.

Saphira cheeped softly, tugging at Eragon's ankle. Eragon looked down at her, feeling her gentle push in his mind. They had to do it. They were…needed.

He looked up at Brom. "What do I do to…to become a dragon rider?"

Brom smiled, wrinkles appearing around his eyes and mouth. "Don't worry—I'll train you. Now…I have something for you."

Eragon saw for the first time that Brom was carrying a long object wrapped in cloth on his back. He now unstrapped it and behind untying the cloths around it. At last, he held it up. It was a longsword, made of some strange red material that glittered in the sun. The pommel was bound in black leather, with a ruby for a pommel stone.

Brom held it out to Eragon. "This is the blade of a dragon rider. Normally the color matches the rider's dragon, they're made for a rider when he comes of age…I'm sorry that this is all I have to give you. It's name is Zar'oc—that means 'misery.' Once it belonged to one of the Forsworn…to Morzan."

"How did you get it?" Eragon said softly. His eyes were riveted on the sword, but he wasn't really seeing it. In its shimmering red blade, he saw rivers of blood spilled by its master…an endless fire, consuming all it touched. He shuddered violently.

"When Morzan was slain, this blade was taken from him by the riders…it passed into my care long ago."

"Brom…you knew the riders!? But—that was hundreds of years ago!"

Brom shrugged, his face unreadable, as if a shutter had closed behind it. "My ancestors were associated with the riders, yes. This sword was passed down through my family. I kept it more as an heirloom than anything…I never dreamed a rider might return, and use it. But now I'm glad I kept it all this time. Take it, Eragon. Take it and use it for good, so that its name will be changed to joy."

Eragon swallowed hard. "Brom…I can't."

"Of course you can—it's all right, it's safe. Just because it belonged to Morzan doesn't mean it's cursed or something. Go on—who else can use it now?"

"Brom, I _can't_—I can't use a sword! I don't know how!"

"Yes, yes, but I'll _train_ you, Eragon! Before long you'll be a great swordsman, you'll see." Brom pressed the hilt of Zar'oc into Eragon's hands.

Eragon grasped the hilt reluctantly, and tried to lift it. He nearly fell over. "It's so heavy—I can barely even hold it up! There's no way I can learn to use this thing, Brom, why can't I just use my bow? I'm a great shot—I've been training in the bow since I was a kid."

"But—but a sword is the proper weapon for a dragon rider! The riders would soar through the sky, wielding their mighty swords…"

"I can shoot a bow from the sky. Besides, Saphira's much too small to ride. Brom, if I could use the sword I would, but it's impossible!"

Brom sighed. "Fine. I suppose I can't force you to learn sword fighting. But at least keep it with you—you're a rider, you should be its owner."

Eragon nodded, half relieved and half annoyed. He slipped the leather sword belt around his waist, then got hopelessly tangled when he tried to buckle it to the shoulder strap and get the sheath on as well. It took Brom a good quarter of an hour to get him untangled again and show him how to put it on properly. Eragon had to bite back an "I told you so" several times.

"Well," Brom said at last, "That's done." He stepped back to admire his handiwork, frowning. Eragon didn't make quite the heroic figure Brom had been hoping for, but it was a start.

Saphira, meanwhile, was rolling on the ground making a rasping sound Eragon took to be laughter. "Oh, shut up," he mumbled, picking her up and setting her on his shoulder. She nipped his ear and settled down, rustling her wings.

"Let's get going," Brom said. "We'll look for the nearest village, get some supplies—maybe horses."

"Where will we go?" Eragon asked.

Brom shrugged. "I don't know yet," he said. "And if you don't stop asking me stupid questions and let me think, I never will!"

Eragon took the hint and left Brom alone as they walked, talking softly to Saphira and trying to come to grips with everything that had happened.

That night when they made camp, Eragon and Brom didn't speak a word to each other. They were both deep in thought. Sleep didn't come easily to either of them that night. As he started drifted off, Eragon thought he half-heard a voice, calling to him...a woman's voice, in pain, afraid—for him.

_"…there. That should do it." Subieko closed the lid of her laptop and sat back, stretching._

_"Don't you think you cut it off a bit…abruptly?" Brom said._

_Subieko shrugged. "Eh…I didn't want to go through some big rigmarole about wrapping it up. Ooo…that sounded good. Semi-alliteration!"_

_Brom shook his head and wandered off. It was hopeless. Eragon, meanwhile, sat nearby with his chin in his hands. He and Saphira had been puzzling over an idea for a while now._

_"Subieko…"_

_"What is it, Eragon?"_

_"Well…when can Saphira and I start talking to each other? Right now we just—think at each other or something."_

Yeah_, Saphira said_. I want to use actual words.

_Subieko gnawed her lip. "Hmmm…well, we'll see. I don't know about _words_, but you and Eragon will be able to communicate more clearly pretty soon, don't worry. Now where's Murtagh?"_

_"I don't know…I think he left while we were writing the chapter," Eragon said, looking around. "But he'll probably be back by the time he's in the story, it's not for a long time yet." He and Saphira left to go hang out with Brom, who looked rather lonely in a corner by himself._

_"Darn—I really need him!"_

_"What for, Subieko?" Durza asked._

_"What do you _think_? To be in the story, of course!"_

_"But—but he doesn't come for ages! He's at the end, Subieko!"_

_Subieko rolled her eyes. "So are you, Durza. Anyway, he's too cool to leave out until the end. Murtagh has to go in! …well, if we can find him."_

_"I _guess_ I could go take a look," Durza said slowly._

_Subieko nodded. "We'll go together. We'll find Murtagh, then come back and get Arya, and the three of us can get to work on the chapter. Oh, probably Galby, too."_

_"But I thought the chapter was about Murtagh."_

_"You guys will be in it too…if it gets written."_

_Durza leapt to his feet. "What are we waiting for? Let's go find Murtagh!"_

_With that, they ran out the door. The PC remained unattended on the couch._


	11. Hijacked!

Author's Note: This chapter is very, very short, but it's supposed to be--this is the 'hostile takeover' chapter I was thinking about...where the characters try--key word 'try'--to write the story on their own. The Murtagh chapter is in the works, and will be up very soon! Hope no one minds the random chapter...it was fun to write. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Hijacked!

_"Haha…hahahaha….MUAHAHAHA!"_

_Eragon cringed, hiding behind Saphira. "Arya…what's gotten into you? You don't do the Evil Laugh!"_

_Arya was grinning, a fiendish look on her face. Subieko's computer sat before her, the story still up on its screen. "Oh, payback is sweet…"_

_"What are you doing?" Brom asked, shuffling over._

_"She said we were getting the story the way _we_ want it, right? So now, I'm going to write my own chapter! About me!"_

_"Wait—what about the rest of us?" Eragon said._

_Arya shrugged. "If you want to help, fine, but it's my chapter, so I get final say."_

_"I don't know…" Brom said, looking nervously over his shoulder. "Subieko's not going to be too happy about this…"_

_"So what?" Arya said. "I'm not too happy with her story!"_

_"Oh, this…this isn't good…" Eragon mumbled as Arya began to type._

Arya woke up back in her cell. Suddenly, she felt stronger than ever! She easily broke out of her cell and raced off down the hall toward freedom!

Durza appeared and tried to attack her with magic, but she stabbed him in the heart and killed him. And she didn't even get a disfiguring wound like Eragon, because she was _much_ more powerful.

Then Eragon showed up to rescue her, but Arya didn't need his help, and—

_"Hey, wait a minute!" Eragon said. "What about me? I'm the main character—give me that laptop!"_

_Knocking Arya aside, Eragon began to type._

Eragon caught Arya as she suddenly swayed on her feet, exhausted by her efforts. Then Durza got back up because actually he wasn't dead, but Eragon killed him with Zar'oc, which he could wield easily even with one hand. Then he called for Saphira and they flew off together—

_Saphira knocked Eragon aside with her tail. _Not so fast—what about _me_!? _Saphira began typing, trying hard to hit the keys with her claws._

TGnhsjan rioans gouaue sinhcvjiuosa jfjnfdiokvhwek djjd—

_"Saphira, those aren't even real words!" Eragon said. "You can't use a computer, give it back to me!"_

_"No—it was my idea in the first place!" Arya cried, grabbing the laptop as well._

_"I never even got to write my own story…" Brom said sadly._

_There was a slow clunking sound, and Galbatorix came up behind them. "I want to write the story!"_

_"No!" the other characters shouted. Soon they were fighting desperately, all trying to tell their very own story. Arya punched Galbatorix in the nose, and quickly ducked his angry blow. Brom, who was standing behind Arya, got hit instead, and went flying across the room. He slammed into Garrow and Roran, who had been trying to sneak in and rewrite the story themselves. Eragon, enraged by the attack on his mentor, slashed at Galbatorix with Zar'oc, hoping to rend the King's armor. Unfortunately, plate armor doesn't really get torn apart by a sword stroke, and it just bounced off. Then Saphira roared, and they all fell to their knees, covering their ears. Saphira was about to grab the computer back when they all heard the door shut with a soft click._

_"Just _what_ is going on here!?"_

_The characters turned around very, very slowly. In the doorway stood Subieko, Durza, and Murtagh. Subieko was livid._

_"I leave you guys alone for ten minutes, and look what you do! Give me back my laptop!" She snatched it up, hugging it. "Shhh, PC…it's okay. You're safe now."_

_"Um, Subieko? Why are you talking to your computer?" Durza asked._

_"What? I talk to lots of inanimate objects. They have feelings too, you know!"_

_There was a long, long silence. Then Murtagh coughed politely. "Why did you need me, anyway? I'm not in the story for a long while yet."_

_Subieko grinned. "Not anymore, Murtagh…you're in the story! C'mon, let's get to work!"_

_Murtagh grinned back. "Finally!"_

_Together, Murtagh, Durza, and Subieko sat down to write the story. Arya stamped her foot. "Wait—I thought I was supposed to be in this chapter too!"_

_Subieko shrugged, not even glancing up at Arya. "You are, but I've decided you don't get to help work on it because you stole my PC. Oh—but you can come help, Galby. It's not your fault you tried to steal the PC. You've only gotten one scene in your whole life, and we wrote it."_

_Galbatorix sighed in relief and sat down next to the other three with a loud thump. "It's high time," he said._

_Eragon and Saphira slunk away, hoping that by the time they were in the story again, Subieko would have forgotten all about this little incident._


	12. Desperation

Author's Note: Wow...this chapter is a lot longer than I intended. It just kind of...went on and on and on. It was supposed to be mostly about Murtagh, but...well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men. But anyway...review replies! (Because I haven't done them in a while...curse my lazy typing fingers!)

DeadlyCreative, I'm glad you liked the chapter, but sadly I can't destroy Arya--she's important to the plot! Hopefully she'll become a cool character, and you'll like her a bit more.

Nanoer: I assume you are indeed a fellow Wrimo--yay! I admit, to my shame, that I used to know nothing about the weight of swords. But I actually found out about their real sizes and stuff on a nano thread! So, I know that swords would never be that heavy--definitely not over ten pounds, and that would be a really heavy sword. But in the original book, Zar'roc was supposed to be crazy-heavy, and yet Eragon could fight with it. So, I decided to make it equally heavy in this version...but force Eragon to obey the laws of physics while trying to use it. Thanks for catching the traps thing...I probably should have researched it a bit. I will try to be more accurate in the future!

Miss Pookamonga: Glad you liked their 'chapters'...and yes, a Roran/Garrow/Katrina chapter would have been interesting...or maybe not, they'd probably just write about their lives as farmers. Not exactly epic heroes.

And, to everyone who wanted to see Murtagh...I swear, I meant this chapter to be about him. He IS in it, but...well...I hope you like it anyway. And a warning: the end of this chapter may be a little...creepy. But it's not graphic, and nothing much really happens, sooo...yeah. Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 10: Desperation

_"Good…the PC isn't damaged, and the story seems to be intact…except for the drivel they added. But we'll just ignore that," Subieko said._

_"So…what am I doing in the chapter?" Murtagh asked._

_"Erm…well, I don't want to give it away and ruin the story for the readers, sooo…how about I just whisper it to you?"_

_Murtagh nodded. Subieko whispered the plot to him, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, yes! Yes! Finally, I get a decent chapter!"_

_Durza fiddled with the hem of his cape. "What about me, Subieko?"_

_"You're in the chapter too, but later," Subieko said. "And Arya and Galby, of course. Anyway, we start with Murtagh. Here we go, guys!"_

_The cool characters (c'mon, we all know Murtagh and Durza are the cool characters) sat down together._

_"I heard that!" Arya said. But they ignored her and started to write._

Dawn was approaching. He could feel it in the air—that last burst of darkness, of still and peaceful night, before the sun broke over the horizon. He liked the dark, liked the sense that it was full of secrets. Most of all, he liked the secrecy it provided him.

He had to hurry—there wasn't much night left to him. Running through his pack and saddlebags one last time, he nodded in satisfaction. Everything was ready—it was time to leave.

His horse, Tornac, was saddled and waiting, his hoofs wrapped in rags to keep as silent as possible. At last…all was ready.

_I can't believe it's really happening…all of that planning, all of the risks, and now…it's finally here. It's finally time…!_

He grinned, his pale face stark against his dark hair. Shouldering his quiver and buckling on his sword, he took Tornac's bridle and left. As soon as they were far enough away, he mounted Tornac and galloped off, laughing with wild exhilaration as the sun peeked over the horizon.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"What did you say?" Galbatorix whispered, his eyes narrowed. The messenger standing before him trembled, too terrified to speak. But he didn't have to. The King knew full well what he had said—he just didn't want to believe it.

The messenger swallowed hard, forcing himself to open his mouth. "H-he's…gone, my Lord. It looks like he left some time last night."

Galbatorix rose and came to stand next to the messenger, smiling kindly. "There, there. It isn't _your_ fault. Now send in Garret."

The messenger couldn't hold in a gasp. Garret was in charge of keeping an eye on—him. They had expected him to flee for years.

"Unless you would prefer to stay here…?" Galbatorix said.

The messenger fled. Garret came in shortly after, shaking uncontrollably. "You…you called, my Lord?" he said, his throat dry.

Galabatorix was smiling broadly now. "Garret. Dear, dear Garret. I entrusted you with a most important task, Garret."

Garret nodded mutely, frantically. Galbatorix stepped even closer.

"You have failed, Garret. This was a mind-numbingly easy task, and you _failed_."

Galbatorix's hand snaked out and wrapped around Garret's throat. The guard tried to protest, but all that came out was a strangled groan. He could not breath…the world was growing dim…

Galbatorix never stopped smiling.

When it was finished, the King called in the guards outside his doors. He gestured to Garret's body, and one of them hurriedly began dragging it away. This was a regular duty for them.

"Get me Durza," the King said. The other guard hastened to obey.

It was never a wise idea to fail the King.

-o-o-o-o-o-

There was a rap at the door. Durza glanced up, frowning, and let Arya fall to the floor. She lay there, gasping for air, as the Shade went to open the door.

"What is it?" he asked. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

The messenger took a hasty step back. "Er…s-sir, the King wants to see you…"

Durza scowled. "…fine. Tell him I'll be there shortly." The messenger raced off with alacrity, leaving Durza and Arya alone again.

"Don't fret, princess—I'll be back soon," he said, smiling. Arya shuddered, coughing weakly. If he left her here alone, she would be completely defenseless. There were many other soldiers roaming the fortress, and unlike the Shade, they were interested in more than just causing her pain.

One of the guards came in, to Arya's dismay. Anything important—the King's throne room, a prisoner like her—was always guarded. The King had a vast army at his disposal, and he took no chances.

"What are your orders, sir?" he asked Durza.

The Shade didn't even bother looking at him. "The King has summoned me. I am uncertain how long I will be gone."

"What about the prisoner? Should I…take charge of her?" the guard said, a slow smile creeping up his face. Arya shut her eyes, willing herself not to cry out.

"No," Durza said. "You will remain at the door, and allow no one to enter."

"Of course, sir," the guard said, in a voice that made it very clear he considered this order merely a matter of policy. Plenty of other commanders had said such things to guards, and they had rarely cared whether or not they were obeyed.

"'No one' includes you," Durza said dryly. Ushering the guard out, he took a key from his pocket. Arya looked up, barely daring to hope. Being locked in one of the King's torture chambers was bad, but she knew full well how much worse it would be if that door stayed open.

The door shut, and the lock clicked solidly. Durza tucked the key into his pocket and set off for the throne room, leaving a very disappointed guard behind him.

"It's unnatural," he said, turning to his partner, who had just come to join him. "He's been working on her for days, and he's not even asking her questions anymore. Why does he _do_ it?"

"Everybody spends more time on elves," the other guard said. "They're harder to break. Besides, she's gorgeous. _Anyone_ would want to spend some extra time on her…"

"So why doesn't he?" his partner replied. "I guard this door every day, and I'm telling you, he doesn't. I'd bet you any money he's the only person in this whole damned army who wouldn't, too!"

The guard shrugged. "Who knows why someone—some _thing_—like that does anything? I don't give a damn what he does with his time—I just wish he'd do us the same courtesy."

His partner rattled the doorknob, sighing disconsolately. "Too right," he muttered when it remained firmly locked.

On the other side of the door, Arya had pulled herself into a sitting position, leaning back against one of the cool stone walls. She breathed a sigh of relief as she listened to the guards' conversation. She was safe…for now.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"I can't say I'm surprised," Durza said, shrugging. The King was pacing, his face taught, but Durza didn't care. This time, he wasn't the one Galbatorix was angry at.

"Idiot guard…if only he had been watching more closely…"

"We knew all along that he would try to escape at some point. The guard was incompetent, that's all."

"Yes…yes," the King said. "You must find him, Durza. You must bring him back to me. Murtagh must _not_ be allowed to escape!"

"Yes, my Lord," Durza said. "What shall I do with the prisoner—the elven princess? Do you want me to dispose of her?"

Galbatorix slumped onto his throne. "Don't get rid of her yet—she has plenty of information still. Keep trying to get something out of her. You are quite creative, Durza, I'm sure you'll think of a way."

Durza bowed, resisting the urge to sigh. The King had no idea how stubborn that woman was. "Where shall I go, my Lord?"

"You will base yourself at Gil'ead—the fortress there is secure, and its garrison should be sufficient for any tactic you try. Do not fail me, Durza—there is no one else I can trust this mission to."

"Of course, my Lord," Durza said, quickly turning to go. He knew better than to be flattered by the King's words—he probably said that to everyone he sent off on important missions. Galbatorix was charismatic, but he had less effect on a Shade like Durza.

Once he had left the King's presence, Durza organized what supplies he would need and prepared to set out. He took no troops with him—as the King had said, Gil'ead had plenty, and he needed no protection during the journey. The only person traveling with him was the elf.

Arya, her hands bound and a gag around her mouth, was led out to where Durza was saddling his horse. "You're sure you don't want any men to go with you, sir?"

Durza just gave the man a look; he raced away as quickly as he could. Arya remained, swaying on her feet. Durza grabbed her and lifted her into the saddle, then got up behind her. They traveled for several hours in silence.

"mmer ah oo fffging ee?" Arya said at last, her words obscured by her gag.

"What?" Durza muttered, not really paying attention. Eventually, however, listening to her incomprehensible mumblings got annoying enough for him to take her gag off.

"Where are you taking me!?" Arya said at once.

"Why would I tell my _prisoner_ where I'm going?" Durza said. Arya fell silent. She hadn't really expected him to tell her—it felt good to at least hear the sound of her own voice, some confirmation that she was still there, still alive. She was surprised Durza had even bothered to take her gag off; he must have known she wasn't going to tell him anything useful.

To her surprise, Durza spoke up again. "How old are you?"

This was such an odd question that Arya didn't know what to say. _I'm too weak to fight him…maybe I can at least get some information. Something to report to the Varden if I...no—when I'm free. _"Tell me where we're going first."

Arya expected him to strike her, but he didn't. "Answer my question and I'll consider it."

_Should I…? But knowing that won't help him any._ "A century or so."

"When did you join the Varden?"

_What difference does it make?_ Arya couldn't see any way her answer would endanger the Varden. "About seventy years ago."

"Ah…I see. And we're going to Gil'ead."

_Why does he care how old I am? _A sudden suspicion struck Arya. "Why are you taking me with you?" _And why are we going alone?_ she thought. But she didn't ask that—she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Because the King commands it."

"Why?"

"He believes there's still a chance of extracting information from you."

"He's wrong," Arya said, praying she was right.

"I know," Durza said. "But it doesn't matter."

"Why are you answering my questions?" Arya said. She was mystified and disturbed by the Shade's unpredictable behavior—she had no way of knowing what he would do next, and no way of preparing herself for the worst.

"Why shouldn't I? None of it will help you escape."

Durza's voice was even, and Arya couldn't turn to see his face; she had no idea what he might be thinking. "But you hate me—you hate elves."

"You flatter yourself. You are of no concern to me."

_He's lying,_ Arya thought, remembering Durza's anger when she had asked him why he hated elves in the first place. She decided not to ask again. Besides, she had more pressing worries. "If you don't think I'll give you information, what are you going to do with me?" Arya held her breath, her hands clenched so tightly it was painful.

"I said I don't think I can get information from you. I didn't say I wouldn't try. Eventually the King will be satisfied that you are no longer useful."

Arya was glad he didn't elaborate—she knew her fate wouldn't be pleasant once she was no longer useful to them. She had to get free somehow—the Varden needed to know that the egg had been lost, and that it had hatched. And whoever that boy was, he needed to know that the Ra'zac were hunting him. She was the only one with that information—if she died, it died with her.

But although Arya thought for the rest of the day as they rode on, she could find no solution. She was trapped, plain and simple. When they stopped to rest for the night, Arya was still struggling to come up with a plan.

Durza dismounted and tied his horse to a low tree branch. "Well?" he said to Arya. "What are you waiting for? Get off."

Arya raised a delicate eyebrow. "I'll fall if I try to with my hands bound. I can't escape—you should know," she added, grimacing.

"…fine," Durza said, undoing the binds on her hands. "Try to escape and I'll cripple you."

Arya swallowed hard. Somehow, that risk sounded much better than the one she was about to take. She leaned back against a pine tree, watching as Durza unsaddled his horse and cared for it. It was disturbing to watch a man who had ripped out her fingernails without flinching show so much concern for a living thing.

_I must be delirious…I could swear he's talking to it…_

"I know," Durza whispered to the horse. "You miss him, too. But she's not one of them..."

The horse whickered softly, nudging his hand. Sighing, Durza sat down across from Arya. "Here—eat," he said, passing some food to her.

Arya looked down at it. She couldn't even tell what it was, let alone if it was edible. She turned her face away.

"If you're trying to starve yourself, don't bother. If you won't eat voluntarily, I'll force you to. I need you alive…for now."

Arya looked at it again, wishing she could tell what it was. It was probably some sort of travel rations that the King's soldiers carried, but still…

"It doesn't have any meat in it, if that's what you're wondering," Durza said. Arya finally consented to eat it, whatever it was. It was as tasteless as any travel rations, but after going for weeks with little food, it was a king's feast. She tried to sip the water he gave her as slowly as possible, to make it last. At this point, Arya didn't even care if the Shade had put anything in it.

There was silence for a while. Arya was steeling herself for her next move. _Oh, gods…give me strength._

"You know I won't tell you anything," Arya said softly, struggling to keep her voice calm. "There's no reason for you to keep me here."

"The King has commanded it. Besides…only an idiot lets an enemy warrior go free."

Arya was shaking now. "For no gain, yes. But I could make it…worthwhile for you."

"Could you really," Durza said, sounding bored. He wasn't even looking at her.

_Dammit, if I'm going to do this it had better work!_ Arya moved closer to the Shade, wincing slightly as her side brushed against the tree's trunk. "Any of your men would kill to be in your position right now."

"That is certainly true," Durza said, grimacing. His subordinates were an embarrassment at times.

Arya shifted even closer. "So why not? I'm sure they've taken their share of…prizes. Shouldn't their general have the best?"

"Princess…there's no need to keep humiliating yourself. I follow the King's orders, and he has ordered me to take you to Gil'ead."

"He would never know," Arya whispered. "You said yourself I won't give you any information. I'll die if you take me to Gil'ead, and the King will admit that you did all you could."

"Why shouldn't I do just that? It doesn't matter to me if you die. You're in no position to make deals, princess—you're helpless. I could do whatever I wanted with you, and no one would care in the least."

"What good would that be?" Arya leaned over to whisper in the Shade's ear. "Everyone is afraid of you—even your own men. An unwilling prisoner isn't the same as…" Arya blocked the thought out of her mind. "Everyone wants companionship…love."

"Let us suppose—for the sake of argument—that that's true. Why would I want it from _you_?"

"Don't tell me I'm not desirable—every man in your army thinks so."

"Every man except me," Durza said, smirking. "I neither need nor want your…companionship. Or anyone else's, for that matter."

Arya reached out a hand and touched the Shade's face, suppressing a shudder. "Lie to your men, lie to me if you want, but don't lie to yourself. Don't you ever get…lonely?"

Suddenly, to Arya's shock, Durza struck her across the face, throwing her backwards. She spat out a mixture of dirt and blood, lying facedown on the ground, steeling herself for worse yet to come.

"…touch me again and I'll kill you," the Shade said at last through clenched teeth, breathing hard. He stalked off a ways and sat down, still glaring at Arya.

Arya managed to get to sleep after a while. She felt nervous being unconscious around the Shade, but she needed to gather her strength. Besides…even if she stayed awake, there was nothing she could do to defend herself if he decided to harm her.

Durza didn't bother to stay awake either; the elf was too weak to escape at this point, and if she tried, it would probably wake him up anyway—his senses were much sharper than a normal human's. He leaned back against a tree, losing himself in memories.

_A young boy, dark-haired and tanned, sat on a sand dune, gazing up at the empty sky. The desert stretched before him endlessly, devoid of life._

What's wrong?_ said a voice in his mind._

_"…nothing," the boy said. "I just miss Hakim."_

He'll be back soon—he was only traveling to the village.

_"I know. It's just lonely without him."_

…what's lonely?_ the voice asked._

_The boy lay back in the sand. "Lonely is…it's when no one's around and you wish someone was. Hey…Durza? Don't you ever get lonely?"_

I don't know. I've always been alone. What does lonely feel like?

_"…it feels sad," the boy said._

I don't like it when you're sad. How do you make lonely go away?

_"Well…when you're with a friend, you aren't lonely anymore. I know—now that we're friends, we'll always be together…so neither of us will be lonely anymore. Okay? You have to promise, okay?"_

I promise…I'll never abandon you.

_"Yeah…I promise, too."_

_And suddenly, the desert didn't seem so empty anymore._

Durza sighed, staring up at the night sky. The stars seemed so cold. "I swear…I swear I'll avenge you. I will!"

There was no answer from the night.

_Subieko was hiding behind the couch again, along with Durza. Now Murtagh was also attacking._

_"Subieko, you said this chapter would be about _me_! It was all about Durza and Arya!" he cried._

_"Errrr…change of plans?" Subieko said._

_"Forget that," Arya said. "Look what you did to _me_! I would never try to—I would never! Never ever ever ever ever—"_

_"Silence!" Galbatorix said, the room echoing with his voice. "I got a good part, so all of you shut up and stop whining!"_

_"I don't suppose you're happy with the chapter?" Subieko said to Durza, shielding her laptop from the various objects the other characters were now throwing at them._

_"It wasn't so bad, but…why'd you make Arya do that? It was creepy! And gross!"_

_"What? It makes sense with the plot, doesn't it? She's desperate! She's trying to get back to the Varden any way she can! It's brave and heroic and noble and self-sacrificing!"_

_"Yeah, but…it's creepy!"_

_"Oh, whatever," Subieko muttered. "You're all such complainers. And where did Brom and Eragon and Saphira go?"_

_"We're right here…we're angry, too," Brom said. "What happened to us?"_

_"Yeah!" Eragon said. "I'm the main character—why are Durza and Arya getting so much attention?"_

_"Sheesh, would you guys all just calm down? The next chapter is about you and Saphira, Eragon—you learn to communicate better!"_

_"…really?"_

_"Really. And if you save us from Murtagh and Arya, I'll get to work on it right away!"_

Fine,_ Saphira said. _But it had better be good!


	13. Words

Author's Note: This chapter is short, but I'm planning to make most of them short so you don't have to slog through a huge amount of text at once. Essentially it means that the story is just broken up into shorter segments--I'm not actually making it shorter, I'm not THAT lazy a writer! (laughs). Sooo...review replies!

alsdssq: Glad you liked it. And thanks for the tip about Haeg...I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but Hakim isn't the mentor character. Actually I kinda forgot about the mentor guy, so I should use him too.

dragon of spirits: yes...it was creepy, and it was certainly...er...unusual for Arya. And here's the next chapter with Eragon--hope you like it!

Jsygirl: Heh, glad you didn't mind the lack of Murtagh...he's turning out to be very tricky to write. Probably cause he's a pretty cool character already.

Mystical Hanyou: er...yes--suspense! (now I just have to figure out what to put in that chapter!)

Miss Pookamonga: Wow...you're making me blush--thanks! (grins) Glad you liked Arya...I was afraid the whole Arya and Durza bit might be...well, really creepy.

Ah, and I was wondering: are the before-the-chapter bits (with the characters arguing) worth reading, or just kind of annoying? Cause if they're basically annoying, I should probably just take them out.

Sooo...on with the show! Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 11: Words

_"So we'll really get to talk to each other in this chapter?"_

Yeah, _Saphira said, coming up behind Eragon. _It's about time I did more than squeak!

_"Yeah, yeah, the chapter's all about you two talking and stuff," Subieko said, waving her hand vaguely in the air. "And Brom's in it, too—go get him, okay?"_

_"I'm already here," Brom said. "So, do I get a good part? Do I impart some wisdom to Eragon?"_

_"Um…maybe a little?"_

_Brom sighed and slumped down in a chair. It wasn't fair—he _never_ got to impart his wisdom._

_"What about when we get to the town?" Eragon asked._

_Subieko just shrugged. "I don't think that'll be in this chapter, Eragon—it's mostly about you and Saphira, and once you get to town, Saphira has to hide and stuff."_

_"But it'll be so short!"_

_"Look at it this way," Subieko said, resting a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "If you guys learn to talk _now_, then once you're in Therinsford, Saphira can still have at least a bit of a part, even though she's hidden!"_

Finally!_ Saphira cried, roaring._ It's about time I did something! Start the chapter already, Subieko!

_"All right, all right, hold your horses!"_

_"We don't have horses," Brom said._

_"Well then hold them later. For now, hold…oh whatever, let's just start." _

Eragon sighed, stretching his arms. His body ached from hours on the road, and his feet were sore. He hoped they would reach Therinsford soon; he had lost count of how many hours they had been walking.

Eragon felt a questioning probe from Saphira. "I'm fine," he said, stroking her little head. She made a trilling sound, settling down on his shoulders. Eragon frowned as a thought struck him.

"Brom, did dragon riders _talk_ to their dragons? How could they fight together, and fly, and everything, if they couldn't talk?"

Brom shrugged. "Some say dragons and their riders communicated mind-to-mind. Don't you get a sense of what Saphira is feeling?"

"Well…sort of. I can get an idea of what she's trying to say sometimes, but it's not very…"

"Exact?" Brom suggested.

Eragon nodded. "I can tell if she's frightened or happy, stuff like that, but not much else. And does she understand me? Or does she only get those feelings from me, like I get from her?"

"Hmm," Brom said, pulling his pipe from a pouch at his waist. He tucked it into his mouth, forgetting to light it. "I'm no expert on dragons, Eragon, no one is, they've always been something of a mystery. But I know this much—you and Saphira are linked on a deep level, very deep. You have the ability to communicate in a way that's much clearer than just _talking_. You just have to learn how."

"But I don't even know where to start!"  
"I'm not surprised," Brom said, glancing at Eragon. "If there's one thing you'd do well to learn, it's how to listen! If you want to talk to Saphira, you've got to learn how to listen to her first. You say you can feel some of her emotions, her thoughts. When you get those feelings, concentrate on them! You'll figure out how to connect to her more clearly soon enough, I'm sure. And when you find that connection, practice until it's easy to find it again."

Eragon sighed. That sounded terribly difficult; he had been hoping to talk to Saphira soon. They had so much to tell each other!

_Or do we? What if we learn to talk to each other, but we're too different? What if we don't have anything to say to each other?_ Eragon fought down a rising feeling of panic. Then he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry so much," Brom said gently. "Saphira hatched for you—she _chose_ you. The bond you two share is very, very powerful…you can't even imagine. You'll understand each other—just give it time."

Eragon managed a smile, and the three traveled on in silence. Eragon decided that he might as well start practicing now. Feeling silly, he tried saying words to Saphira in his head.

_Hello? Can you hear me? Oh, this is stupid…_

Saphira chuckled, nudging him.

_Wait—did you actually hear me!?_ Then it occurred to Eragon that she might have sensed his frustration, not his words. Glancing at Brom, he spoke to her in a whisper. "Saphira…" Then he realized he couldn't think of a thing to say.

_What could we talk about? We hardly know anything about each other's…well, about each other's worlds. What's it like, being a dragon?_

Turning to the dragon, Eragon saw that she was gazing up at the sky. He felt a powerful sense of longing. "You…want to fly?" he said softly.

Again, there was that sense of longing. The desire for the rush of air, the taste of starlight on the skin… Eragon, startled by the vivid sensation, was jolted out of his reverie. Had he really just seen what Saphira was imagining?

"All right…why don't I tell you about…umm…about my family—you never really got to meet them."

A prickling of interest. Eragon tried to hang on to that feeling, to understand _how_ he was feeling it, exactly what that connection felt like.

"Uncle Garrow—he's not really my Uncle, but I always call him that—he found me when I was a baby. He said I was just left there, on the doorstep, out in the cold…he said he wouldn't have taken me in, but he couldn't have it on his conscience if I died out there. But I think he was just saying that—he always acted so gruff with me and Roran, but he worried about us every time we went hunting or off to town."

There it was again—the feeling that Saphira was _listening_ to him, and not just to his words. Eragon almost felt like she was hearing something deeper, something inside him. He hung onto it as hard as he could.

"And Roran…it always felt like we were brothers, even though we're not blood relations. We did everything together when we were small. We learned to hunt and track…I was always the best at that. But Roran knew all about planting and harvesting, he could always tell what the weather would be—if it was going to be rainy, or windy, or anything. I still don't know how he did it." Eragon fell silent, lost in his memories. It was starting to hit him that this wasn't just a trip with old Brom the storyteller—he was leaving his home…and he didn't know when, if ever, he would be back.

_Roran…will you and Garrow be all right without me? Will you still be able to marry Katrina, with no one left to help Garrow with the farm? Did I…do the right thing? If I had told you about Saphira—if I had shown you right away—would it have been different…?_

And then Eragon felt it. It was a gentle touch inside of him, a sadness, almost an apology. _Not sad. Don't be sad._

"Wha—was that—were we really…!?"

Saphira licked his cheek. _Not sad anymore. Don't be sad anymore._

Could they speak mind-to-mind now, as Brom had suggested? _Saphira, can you hear me?_

Nothing. Saphira didn't seem to realize that he was trying to speak to her at all. Now that Eragon thought about it, when Saphira had 'spoken' to him, it hadn't felt like _words_, exactly. It was more…the idea that she didn't want him to be sad.

"So we can't just talk…we have to—feel things at each other? That could be hard…" Eragon decided to give it a try. This time, instead of _saying_ 'can you hear me?', he tried to put that into a feeling. He concentrated on his desire to talk to Saphira as hard as he could, trying to mentally 'send' his thought to her.

Saphira sat up and chirruped, wondering what he wanted to talk about. Eragon laughed, hugging her. He had _felt_ her curiosity! They were really communicating!

"What are you two up to?" Brom said, half turning to look behind him. But Eragon and Saphira weren't listening. They were too busy testing their newfound 'speaking', seeing how well they could communicate, trying to understand each other, trying to connect. Brom smiled, and the lines around his mouth—the tracks of old smiles—deepened. Then he sighed, turning away. Those two had a long road ahead of them.

"We're here," he called back. Brom hated to interrupt them, but there would be time enough for them later. "We've reached Therinsford. Saphira, you'd better hide in the pack again—we've got to be careful."

Saphira cheeped sadly. _Don't want to_. Eragon frowned, but he knew Brom was right. "It's just for a little while," he whispered to her, tucking her away in his old pack. He and Brom had tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her, but there was only so much they could do.

"How long will we stay here?" Eragon asked.

"Oh…I don't know. Not too long, I should think. We've got to get some supplies, see if we can find horses for the two of us…at least a few hours, certainly not more than a day. Come on—the faster we get started, the faster we'll be done."

With a mutual sigh, Eragon and Saphira follwed Brom into the town.

_"That was _really_ short, Subieko! Way too short!"_

_"Will you quite complaining? You guys learned to talk, what more do you want!?"_

_Brom clapped a hand over Eragon's mouth. "He's not complaining—he's just excited about the chapter being done already. Can I impart some more wisdom in our next chapter?"_

_"Sure you can, Brom," Subieko said kindly. "You've got lots more to share."_

Well, I'm complaining_, Saphira said._ I talk in some kind of—baby talk! I'm a mighty dragon!

_"A _baby_ mighty dragon. And you guys are still learning to understand each other—what you say has to be simple or you wouldn't get it across!"_

_Saphira blew out a threatening puff of smoke. Wincing, Subieko patted the dragon's nose. "Well—I'm sure you'll get a bit more articulate soon. Okay?"_

In the next chapter?

_"Er…in the next chapter that has you guys in it."_

We're not in the next chapter!?

_Subieko shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Well, see, it's just that Murtagh really didn't a very good part in his chapter, so I was thinking maybe some more of him…"_

_Murtagh immediately stood up to shield Subieko from Brom, Eragon, and Saphira. "Shut up, Eragon—you're the title character! We deserve some time too!"_

_"You guys get the _most_ time!" Eragon wailed. But everyone ignored him, as usual._

_"Does that mean I get more time too, Subieko?" Durza said._

_"And me?" Arya said, coming over. "And this time don't make me so…just make me better!"_

_"We'll see…I'm not sure yet. You guys are becoming a problem."_

_"I'm a problem!?" Durza cried._

_"Not in a bad way!" Subieko said. "Well, I mean, problems are bad, but…it's just that somehow, when you guys are together, you just sort of…take over the story."_

_"As I should!" Arya said._

_Murtagh whacked her in the head, scowling. "Can we just start my next chapter already?"_


	14. Wind and Flame

Author's Note: Okay, I realize this is a ridiculously quick update, two in one day...but chapter 11 was actually ready for posting yesterday--I just couldn't upload it for some reason. Computer troubles, I guess. Anyway, still not too much action in this one, it started getting really long...and, alas! Murtagh still doesn't have a chapter mostly to himself. But he's coming, never fear! Now...review replies!

alsdssg: (laughs) Yes--they are the cool characters. Murtagh is still coming...I think he's THE trickiest character to write, so far.

kewlkid: glad you like the before-chapter bits!

amanda: Hmm...I don't know if Durza and Arya would agree that they make a lovely couple, but they are great to write about--somehow they just...feed off each other and take over the story. I hope to bring them back in soon, because I love writing them.

JaDE-rUst: ...! (blush) I'm very flattered...you give me too much credit--they're not bad characters, they just needed a little love. And yes, Durza does rule. A lot. (laughs)

12: Wind and Flame

_"Um…Murtagh?"_

_"Yeah, what?" Murtagh said, leaning back in his chair as he awaited his chapter._

_Subieko shifted nervously in her own chair, not meeting his eyes. "Well…remember how I said the next chapter would be about you?"_

_"Yes…?" Murtagh said slowly, his eyes narrowing._

_"It…um, well…it can't be."_

_"WHAT!?"_

_Subieko cringed, biting her lip. She had seen this reaction coming. "It's just that, with the plot…you really _do_ need to come in a little later. Brom and Eragon have some more stuff to do…so, another chapter or so of them, okay?"_

_"But—"_

_"Tell you what," Subieko said hastily. "I'll put a special part with you in at the beginning, okay? Okay? So you'll be in the chapter, just not in the plot much yet."_

_Murtagh grumbled, slumping in the chair. "…fine. Whatever. It's not like I really care anyway!"_

_"He's always so emo," Eragon whispered to Saphira._

_"I heard that!"_

_Eragon made a sound like 'eep!' and scurried away._

Murtagh leaned back against a smooth rock, sheltered from the sun by an old willow tree. He and his horse, Tornac, were camping beneath its current of branches, waiting for nightfall. It was too dangerous to travel by day—the King's troops were everywhere, and Murtagh was sure Galbatorix would have men searching for him.

Tornac snorted, nudging Murtagh. "Shh...I'm fine," Murtagh whispered to the horse, stroking his nose. "Just trying to figure out where to go next…"

Spreading his tattered map of the Empire on the ground before him, Murtagh thought hard. How could he hide from the most powerful man in Alagaesia? In a neighboring country? But no—he'd never make it across the border.

_How far can I really go before I'm caught? I have to find somewhere to stay quiet for a while, until the search dies down a bit…if it dies down._

Then it came to him. The best place hide was the last place anyone would expect him to go…and the last place the King would expect Murtagh to go was right into his hands.

Checking the position of the sun, Murtagh saw that he had plenty of time to rest before nightfall. He settled down to sleep, smiling. Soon, he would be free of Galbatorix once and for all…

"Gil'ead," Murtagh whispered as he drifted off. "I've always wanted to see it…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Many leagues away, Eragon and Brom were traveling as fast as they could under the same sun. They had found—that was what Brom called it—a pair of horses to carry them and their belongings. They had also 'found' some supplies, much to Eragon's dismay.

"Brom, I can't believe you! What're we going to do if they catch us!?"

"They won't catch us," Brom said. "These are their best horses."

"That's even worse!"

Behind them, they could still faintly hear the shouts of "Thief!" and "Get them!" But with their head start and the fine horses Brom had chosen, they were soon out of reach. Therinsford was behind them, although not as far behind them as Eragon would have liked.

Saphira was riding in front of Eragon, her claws digging into the saddle. She was keenly interested in the scenery, often nearly falling off the horse as she tried to look everywhere at once. Eragon was too upset to focus much on the landscape, however.

"Brom, we're _thieves_ now! We broke the law!"

"You're not a thief—I am. And I didn't _steal_ them, I just borrowed them. This are desperate measures."

Eragon shook his head despairingly. Brom had told him to wait with the supplies they had purchased while he went to look for horses. At the time, Eragon had been puzzled by Brom's insistence that they leave at once, and by a less-traveled route. He had also been puzzled as to how Brom had paid for everything.

"And where did you get fake coins anyway?"

Brom shrugged. "I had Horst forge me some. They're not hard to make, you know, just a bit of iron in dim lighting. These were fairly low-quality counterfeits, too—it's all in the acting skills, my boy!"

"It's not something to be proud of!" Eragon said.

Brom just laughed. "Eragon…I realize this isn't the most honorable thing to do, but we have almost no money, and we need to save what we've got. We won't get anywhere on foot, especially not if we need to make a quick exit at some point—and we probably will, at least once. Right now, our primary concern is survival."

Eragon was silent for a moment. "Are…are we really in that much danger?"

Brom's face was serious now. "Yes. The Ra'zac know you were in the village, and that you left—they'll be searching for our trail, and we need to put some distance between us and Carvahall. Every mile counts."

Saphira nudged his hand, worried. As far as Eragon could tell, she couldn't understand Brom the same way as she understood him; Saphira knew that Eragon was worried, but not why. He tried to reassure her, but she wasn't convinced.

"We'll be okay," he whispered; he felt silly talking to Saphira in front of Brom. "I'll never let them hurt you, or separate us."

Brom watched the two with a faint smile. "I think we'll head for Yazuac—we might be able to get some news there, see what the gossip is. If there's anyone searching for you, we need to know about it. It'll be a chance to get our bearings."

"I thought we had to be careful," Eragon said.

"We will be," Brom replied. "We can be cautious and still _do_ something."

They rode on in silence for a while. Then Eragon stirred. "Brom…?"  
"What is it?" Brom said, cringing inwardly. He had a feeling he knew what Eragon was about to ask him.

"Where are we going to go?"

"I just told you, Yazauc," Brom said.

"I don't mean where are we going right now—I mean, where are we heading, in the end?"

Brom sighed. "…I don't know, Eragon. I don't know."

"What will we do?" Eragon asked.

Brom straightened up and looked Eragon in the eye. "I'm going to train you, Eragon. You and Saphira will grow strong…strong enough to fight the King. Strong enough to bring back what this land knew under the Riders…"

Eragon swallowed hard. That was a tall order for a fifteen-year-old boy and a baby dragon. "Brom?"  
"You and your questions! What do you want to know now—the whole history of Alagaesia?"

"Just one more?"

"…fine," Brom said, digging in his pouch for his pipe. Something to calm his nerves, that was what he needed.

"…what if I can't do it?"

Brom choked, exhaling a puff of smoke. Turning his head, he saw that Eragon was staring ahead of him, biting his lip. "You—what?"

"What if I'm…not any good at this—this dragon rider thing?" Eragon said softly. He was gripping the reigns so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"Dragon rider thing!?" Brom said, his eyebrows snapping together. "Eragon, dragon riding isn't some sort of _job_ you decide to do—it's what you _are_! And you're going to be a dragon rider—a great one—whether you like it or not!"

Eragon was silent for a moment, and Brom wondered if he'd over done it. But then Eragon began to laugh, his face clearing. Brom smiled, shaking his head.

_Kids these days_, he thought.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"We have to cross…_that_?" Eragon said, staring out across the wide, open plains. Tall grasses rolled ahead as far as he could see. Eragon had never seen anything so flat before. After a life in the mountains, it was almost terrifying.

"That," Brom said simply. "It's only about, oh…four days or so. Hopefully we won't see any bad weather—windstorms can be terrible out there. We should fill up the waterskins, too," he added, gesturing at a stream nearby. "We won't find any more water until we reach Yazuac, and we don't dare try crossing the plains unless we have enough."

They set out through the endless grasslands, the sun beating down on their heads. Eragon's eyes soon began to play tricks on him; Saphira laughed uproariously when he nearly fell out of the saddle, twisting to check if those shapes he saw out of the corners of his eyes were _really_ imaginary.

Days passed in much the same manner. Eragon's sense of time and space drifted away from him, and he had no idea how far he and Brom had traveled. It seemed that they had been on the plains for an eternity.

Finally, at the end of the fourth day, Brom said that they were nearly to Yazuac. Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. The plains made his skin crawl; there was something unnatural about all that flatness.

"We may be able to reach (check name!) river in a few hours," Brom said. Then he looked up at horizon. "Oh no—Eragon, hurry, we've got to get to shelter—"

"Why—what's wrong?" Eragon said.

"There's a storm coming, a bad one, we can't stay out in the open! We have to reach the river, there'll be some cover there!"

Brom kicked his horse into a gallop, and Eragon followed suit, his heart beating like a drum. Would they make it to the river? Brom had thought they might reach the river by sunset at a relaxed pace—would they reach it in time at the gallop?

_Safe?_

"I don't know, Saphira," Eragon said. She huddled against him, digging her claws into the saddle.

By now Eragon could see signs of the storm as well. The plains were eerily silent; not a breath of wind stirred the long grasses. Massive clouds were stacked on the horizon, speeding forward as quickly as their horses could gallop. It was a race, and Eragon prayed they would win.

The wind was beginning to pick up again now, howling and throwing dust in their faces. The air turned chill, and the sky was dark. Thunder rolled, and Eragon could see flashes of lightning in the distance. He wanted to turn and flee the storm, but Brom kept riding straight into it, towards the safety of the river.

"Quick—get under cover!" Brom said, swinging down from his horse and scanning the area near the riverbank for shelter. He found it in a small copse of trees. They lead the horses inside and tied them to some low branches, whispering soothingly to them.

Brom and Eragon huddled in the shelter of a small pile of boulders, cracked and worn from countless storms like this one. Eragon wrapped his arms tightly around Saphira, shielding her from the wind.

"We'll be okay now, right, Brom?" he said, his teeth chattering.

Brom's face was tight. "I hope so."

And then, with a resounding crack of thunder, the rain began. It poured down on them in buckets. The trees provided some shelter, but not enough to keep them from being soaked to the skin. They soon looked as though they had gone swimming in the river.

Saphira wriggled uncomfortably, her wings dripping. She and Eragon shivered together as Brom kept an eye on the storm. Eragon didn't know how much time had passed—he thought he might have fallen asleep once or twice. At last, however, the rain slowed and came to a halt. The wind died down, and all was still.

Brom stretched with a sigh of relief. "At last! See if you can get a fire started, I'll go take a look at the horses."

Eragon began searching for dry wood, although he doubted he would find much. There were a few old branches lying around that were only lightly soaked; Eragon gather a pile and tried to light it. He raised some smoke, but not much else.

"Brom, it's too wet—there's no way we'll get a fire going."

"We need one," Brom said. "It was cold enough _before_ we got soaking wet. Let me take a look."

Brom struggled with the flint and steel unsuccessfully for a while before growing frustrated and tossing them down. Eragon expected him to say that they would have to do without fire, but instead he closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Brisingr!" Brom cried, and the pile of damp wood burst into flame.

"Wh—how—what did you--?"

Brom looked rather sheepish. "It's magic. You've heard the old tales, you know there are sorcerers and magicians in the world."

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were one!"

"Well, I am," Brom said gruffly, effectively ending the discussion. This didn't dissuade Eragon, of course.

"Wait—tell me how it works. How did you learn it? Can anyone learn it? Can I learn it!?"

"Hold your horses, will you?" Brom said, sticking his pipe in his mouth. "Let me get some supper cooked, you can wait at least that long, I hope."

Eragon didn't think so, but he managed to shut his mouth and sit down next to Saphira while Brom stoked the fire and put some water on to boil.

_Hungry!_

"Me too, Saphira," Eragon said, smiling. "We'll eat soon. Are you okay now? The storm must have been pretty scary, huh?"

A rather indignant note rang in Eragon's mind. _Wasn't scared! _You_ were scared._

"Was not!" Eragon said, but his mind was elsewhere. He had noticed something odd about what Saphira had said. The way she used 'you' felt somehow different than the way Eragon usually heard it. But Eragon couldn't think of anything else she could be trying to say.

"Ah—here we go," Brom said, passing Eragon a tin pan and filling his own. "Now what were those questions?"

Eragon opened his mouth to repeat them, and add some more he had thought of while they were waiting, but Brom shushed him. Settling back against a rock, he closed his eyes as he thought of what to say.

"Magic…where to start…I suppose you can't really understand it without knowing about the Ancient Language. It's the language that speaks the true form of all things."

"It speaks the _what_?"

Brom sighed. "I suppose you've never heard the Shadow Philosophy. Put in plain terms, it's like this…imagine that you're sitting in a cave, and a fire is burning. On the walls of the cave, you can see the shadows of things. Now imagine that the things we see and hear and feel around us—the world—are those shadows."

Eragon sat there, looking completely confused, and Saphira was equally bewildered. Brom sighed again; he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

"In other words, we can't see the true forms of the things around us—we only see their _shells_, their shadows. The Ancient Language calls things by their true names—it speaks of their true forms, as it were. You can't tell a lie in that language, because everything you say is true."

Eragon scratched his head. "Brom, if everything you say is true, then of course you aren't lying. What happens if you say something that isn't true?"

"You don't understand," Brom said. "You _can't_ say something that isn't true—what you say will be the truth…even if you don't mean it to be. It's very dangerous to lie in the Ancient Language—no one who understands what it really is would dare."

Eragon stared at Brom in silence, his mouth hanging open. He had heard many, many legends and stories, but he had never imagined anything like this.

"The fire-spell I used before is fairly simple—I merely said the word for 'fire' in the Ancient Language, and willed the fire to where I wanted it. If you can speak precisely enough, desire it strongly enough, and will it with enough strength, you can make it happen…within limits, of course."

"What are the limits?" Eragon asked, leaning forward.

Brom scowled. "Don't look so eager—I'm making it simple so you can understand it, but that doesn't mean it really is. Magic is powered by your own strength, and if you overextend yourself…well, at best you'll knock yourself out and have to spend a few days resting, getting your strength back. At worst…"

He stopped, his face shadowed. Eragon shivered. "At worst?" he whispered.

'…at worst, you use up your life-force…you die."

Eragon swallowed hard. Suddenly he didn't want to learn any more about magic.

"Well, you don't need to worry about it," Brom said, seeing the look on his face. "Get some rest, we'll head into Yazuac tomorrow." He ruffled Eragon's hair lightly, then settled down to sleep.

Eragon settled down too, although more uneasily.

_Worried?_

"I guess," Eragon whispered. "I haven't been sleeping so well lately…"

_Night pictures?_

"You mean dreams? But yeah...I think. I wish I could remember them—I feel like they're important."

_Don't worry. Please?_

Eragon smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. "I'm not worried…we'll be all right. We're together, after all."

_"Yaaay, the chapter is finished!" Subieko cried, throwing her hands in the air._

_"Not much happened," Eragon said, frowning. "And the storm wasn't as exciting as in the book—Saphira didn't get blown off the ground, or anything!"_

_"That's because she's a baby. And anyway, Eragon, you couldn't have helped her fold her wings. If she had the muscles in them to _fly_, and those muscles couldn't close them, I don't think you pushing is going to help all that much!"_

_"Would _so_!" Eragon cried. "I'm really strong—I'm the main charac—"_

_"Oh, be quiet," Brom said. "It was a great chapter, Subieko—fantastic!"_

You're just saying that because you got a good part. Well, I didn't! I demand a better part in the story!

_"Then you're in luck," Subieko said, smiling. "I have big plans for you guys next chapter…"_

_Eragon gulped. "Why doesn't that make me feel better…?"_


	15. First Blood

Author's Note: Another chapter done...this went faster than I expected! This chapter gets a liiiitle graphic (it's the Yazuac chapter, so anyone who's read the book...yeah, you get the picture), but nothing too bad. And now...some review replies!

dragon of spirits: Oops--I didn't realize I had left that 'check name!' in there! I didn't have my copy of Eragon onhand when I was writing it and couldn't remember the name offhand, but I forgot to check later. Sorry I made you check...but thanks for telling me the name. And...if you've read the book, then Brom has magic for the same reason he did in the book. Glad you liked the storm!

alsdssg: Glad you liked the horse-stealing bit...(laughs). I thought it might be a little OOC for Brom, but I like him that way. And Murtagh is actually coming soon--I know what I want to do with him!

Mystical Hanyou: ooo--you liked Saphira's speaking? Yaaaay, I wasn't sure how well that had worked! And yes, Murtagh is coming soon...actually, I think he's gonna be in the next chapter. With certain of the other cool characters, of course. (laughs)

And now...enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 13: First Blood

_"Hey…where's Durza?" Eragon said, looking around. He, Brom, Saphira, and Murtagh were the only characters in sight. "And what about Arya and Galbatorix? Wait—you don't think they kidnapped her, do you!?"_

_Subieko rolled her eyes. "I doubt it. They're probably just off taking a walk or something…"_

_Murtagh flopped down into a chair next to them. "Actually, Arya is beating Durza up, and Galbatorix is pointing and laughing."  
"WHAT!?" Subieko cried, leaping up. "C'mon, we have to go rescue him!"_

_She turned to race out the door, but Saphira was blocking her way. _Oh no you don't—you're to sit down and write our next chapter! And you're going to give _me_ a good part!

_"But—no!" Subieko said, searching for another exit. "Durza needs our help!"_

_"He needs _your_ help," Eragon said. "Why should _we_ help him? He keeps stealing our time in the story!"_

_"It's not his fault he's a cooler character than you!" Subieko said. At last she saw that it was hopeless. There was no way she was getting out of the room without writing that chapter._

Well? _Saphira said._

_"…fine," Subieko muttered, slumping down and grabbing her laptop. She began to type as fast as she could._

"So what's Yazuac like, Brom? Have you ever been there before?"

Brom rolled his eyes. He had always been fond of Eragon, and had approved of his curiosity, but days of traveling with him had made that fondness wear thin. Even a storyteller like Brom didn't want to answer questions non-stop. "It's a town, just like any other town. Buildings, people, too much noise and clutter. Now be quiet, at least for a few minutes. If you can manage that long!"

Eragon blushed and shut his mouth. Saphira hissed at Brom, flapping her wings. _Stupid old man—shouted at you!_

There it was again—that funny way of saying 'you' that felt just a little strange to Eragon. "He's not a stupid old man," Eragon whispered. "His name is Brom, and he's a nice guy!"

Saphira resettled herself, holding herself with great dignity. _Stupid old man_, she said again.

Eragon sighed and gave up. In any case, there were more interesting things to do—he could see Yazuac ahead. It was large, with many tall buildings, and…

Smoke. Why was smoke rising from Yazuac?

Eragon turned to ask Brom what was going on, and saw that the storyteller's face had gone stark white. His eyes were wide and staring, his hands gripping the reigns so tightly his horse whinnied in protest.

"What's wrong?" Eragon asked, shivering. The scent of burning was on the wind…it was a sickening smell, although Eragon couldn't imagine what it was.

Saphira twisted in his arms and whined pitifully. _Go away—go back! Let's not go!_

"Why—what is it?" Eragon said, stroking her head gently.

_Don't know_, she said, shaking with fear. _Afraid—so afraid!_

"Don't be scared," Eragon said, holding her close. "I'll protect you." He turned to Brom. "Should we go in?"

Brom nodded, his jaw clenched. They rode forward in silence, the smell growing ever stronger. Eragon didn't want to look at the village as they got closer, afraid of what he might see, but his eyes were drawn to it. He could see that some of the buildings had collapsed, and the streets were strewn with rubble. Smoke rose from many of the houses as they smoldered.

And then Eragon saw something that nearly made him wretch. Lying in the streets were bodies, some ripped to pieces, other burned alive. Some bore the marks of strange teeth, chunks of flesh ripped away by a creature Eragon couldn't imagine.

Brom gripped his shoulder. "Steady, steady," he said softly. "We've got to find out what happened to them—they deserve that much."

Eragon nodded, fighting to keep himself calm. He kept his eyes half-shut as they rode through the village, not looking at the ground. Not looking at the bodies. But he couldn't avoid the stench of burning flesh that was all around them.

"Wait—what's that?" Brom said, getting down from his horse and kneeling in the street. He was examining what looked like tracks. "Eragon, your eyes are younger than mine—take a look at this."

Eragon took a deep breath and dismounted. Crouching beside Brom, he studied the track. It looked like a large, clawed foot, definitely not human. He pointed out the details to Brom, who nodded slowly.

"It might be…an Urgal track."

"Urgals—here?" Eragon whispered. "But—I thought they lived away in the North—"

"I had heard they were migrating lately…but I had hoped the rumors weren't true," Brom said. "Come on—we should get out of here."

Eragon got up and brushed himself off. He was only too eager to leave Yazuac. He was about to mount his horse when Saphira started going berserk. She shrieked, trying to run, and Eragon grabbed her.

"Saphira, calm down—what's the matter!?"

_Run—run—they're coming, run!_

Before Eragon could think about what she was saying, he heard a shout from behind him. Brom was lying on the ground, knocked from his horse by a immense creature, at least seven or eight feet tall. It was covered in thick brown fur, and its face was disturbingly human-like. It had a broad, flat nose, slightly upturned, and a wide mouth. Fangs poked out from under its lips, dripping with saliva. It was bearing down on Brom, whose sword had already been knocked out of his hand.

"Brom!" Eragon shouted, running to the old man's side. He reached for his bow, then realized that the monster was much too close for arrows. Thinking fast, he grabbed Brom's fallen sword and held it before him. To his surprise, it was fairly light; after trying to lift Zar'roc, he had thought it might be impossible.

"St—stay back!" The creature grunted, but Eragon couldn't tell whether it understood him or not. It stalked closer, raising a short sword and a small round shield.

"No!" Eragon cried, swinging the sword. It clanged off the shield, and he dropped it in surprise. The thing was too close—he could feel its hot, fetid breath—he was going to die—

Then, with a roar of rage and pain, the creature fell back. Saphira had leapt forward, scratching and biting at its face, clawing its eyes. Eragon scrambled to his feet, forgetting the dropped sword.

"Saphira, get out of there—it'll kill you!"

At that moment, the creature yanked Saphira off its face and flung her away. She struck the side of a building and slid to the ground, unmoving. Nearby, Brom was groaning, struggling to his feet, but he was clearly unable to fight.

This was the end, Eragon realized. He was going to die…there was no point in running now, no point in fighting. It was…hopeless.

_I'm going to die_, Eragon told himself. The words were strange, difficult to really _believe_. And then it came to him. _Brom's going to die…Saphira's going to die!_

And suddenly Eragon was angry, so angry it frightened him. The rage inside of him was swelling until he thought he would burst—it was boiling over—

Eragon found himself shouting without knowing where the words came from—"Brisingr!" There was a wave of heat, and the creature screamed in agony as it was consumed in a rush of flame. Eragon staggered, seeing stars. He felt exhausted, as if he had run for miles. But he must not faint…he had to protect Brom and Saphira…he had to…had to…

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon felt a wave of nausea as he sat up. Hunching over, he heaved until there was nothing left in his stomach, feeling weak and dizzy. Then a hand was patting his back.

"Easy there—how are you feeling?"

Eragon didn't even have the strength to answer. Brom put one of the waterskins to his lips, and Eragon managed to swallow a little. Brom whispered something Eragon didn't understand, and Eragon felt strength flow into him.

_A healing spell, maybe_, he thought dully.

_Awake now? Better?_ Saphira said, nudging him gently. Eragon managed a weak smile. "I'm fine," he whispered.

"You idiot—what were you thinking!?" Brom said, grabbing Eragon's shoulders and shaking him. "Using magic to kill that Urgal—completely untrained, no control whatsoever—you could have died—"

Without warning, Eragon burst into tears. Brom fell silent, not sure what to do.

"Calm down, now…it's all right, I didn't mean it…"

Saphira licked Eragon's cheek. _Sad…?_

Eragon nodded, choking on his words. "I—I—I killed it! I s-said that w-word—and then—I didn't mean to, I didn't know—I didn't know that it would…"

"It wasn't your fault," Brom said, hugging Eragon gently. "You didn't have a choice—you saved our lives. Shh…it's all right…it's going to be all right."

Saphira whined softly, as unhappy as Eragon. Reaching out a hand, Brom held onto her too, comforting the two of them until they cried themselves to sleep.

_"It's done—now we can go rescue Durza!"_

_"NOT SO FAST!"_

_Subieko stopped short as Eragon and Saphira grabbed her and pulled her back. "What? I wrote the chapter, didn't I?"_

_"You made me cry!" Eragon said. "And you made me cry a lot, too—I always cry just a single tear!"_

_Subieko clenched her hands, taking a deep breath. "Eragon…people don't just cry a single tear! When people cry, they really _cry_! You just killed someone for the first time in your life, of course you're upset!"_

_"But you still could have—"_

_"HIYAH!" Subieko shouted, shoving Eragon backwards and racing out the door. "Hang on, Durza—Subieko to the rescue! Dan-da-dan!"_

_Eragon, Brom, and Saphira watched her go, nonplussed._

_"…dan-da-dan?" Brom said._

_"…I don't want to know," Eragon replied._


	16. Fugitive

Author's Note: Yes--it's finally here! The Murtagh chapter! He's been very troublesome to write...tricky character. Hope the wait's been worthwhile! And now...review replies:

dragon of spirits: ahhh, yes, the infamous single tear...it was high time someone in Alagaesia burst into floods of tears! And this chapter is the return of Durza, Arya, and Galbatorix.

JJ: Yes, this is the long (much longer than expected!) Murtagh chapter. Unfortunately, Arya IS a main character...but hopefully she'll turn out pretty cool.

alsdssg: yes, our hero DOES have a heart! And I'm glad you liked Saphira's fight with the Urgal--I couldn't resist putting it in.

Eminem Rocks!: Thanks soooo much for the advice about separating the writing-the-story and the actual story parts with a divider--starting with this chapter, I've stopped italicizing those bits and am using the divider. (why didn't I think of this before...?) And Subieko is pronounced Soo-bee-ay-coe (the 'ko' rhymes with 'cove'). Glad you liked that line--I wasn't sure the little 'dan-da-dan' would work well written.

Miss Pookamonga: He can be a stupid old man sometimes...but no, I love Brom. Yay, you caught the Plato allusion! I wanted Brom to tell Eragon a philosophy-type thing about the ancient language, so I thought, why not a real philosophy-thing? And that 'you' will continue to be a plot point...although it isn't explained just yet.

dragon person: Arya and Durza both return in this chapter...although it's mostly about Murtagh. It's nice to see someone cheering for Arya (laughs).

Sooo...enjoy the Murtagh chapter!

Chapter 14: Fugitive

The door opened with a bang under the force of Subieko's jump-kick. She promptly fell down and began complaining about how painful it was to kick a door. Then, remembering her mission, she sprang up.

"All right, you poltroons—avast ye!"

"MUAHAHAHA—what?" Galbatorix said, looking up from where he was pointing and laughing maniacally at Durza.

"I mean, cut it out!"

"We're not even doing anything to him anymore," Arya said, rolling her eyes. "And stop crying already!" she added, giving Durza a kick in the ribs.

Durza, meanwhile, was curled up on the floor in fetal position, wailing, "Why me? Why me? Oh, cruel world!"

"Have some villainous pride," Galbatorix said. "What kind of evil minion are you!?"

"All right, guys, break it up," Subieko said, coming over. "Galby, go wait somewhere else, I don't need you for this chapter. Arya, stop kicking Durza and go find Murtagh. And Durza, stop crying and get up. Got it!?"

Everyone mutely did as they were told. Once Arya and Galbatorix had left, Subieko turned to Durza. "I can't believe you let Arya beat you up. Murtagh or Galbatorix I could understand, but Arya?"

"She's an elven warrior-princess—what was I supposed to do?" Durza said, sniffing.

"Here," Subieko said, handing Durza a handkerchief. "And how about fighting back?"

There was a long, long silence.

"Or running for your life," Subieko said. "Sheesh."

"Sorry…"

"That's okay...I understand…kind of. Anyway come on, we've got a chapter to write, and I need you and Arya and Murtagh."

"Wait—I have to sit in a room with Arya!?"

"Durza, I'll keep things under control! She's just bitter about being tortured and all."

"That wasn't my fault!" Durza cried.

Subieko shrugged. "I know, I know…but it was important to the plot! Now come on, it's high time Murtagh got his chapter. Do realize that I've named ever chapter since 11 "Fugitive," and then had to change it when I realized Murtagh's chapter couldn't come yet? This is the big moment! I need your help!"

"…really?"

"Really."

"Okay," Durza said, handing back the handkerchief. "I'll come."

The two walked off the join Murtagh and Arya, so that Murtagh's long-awaited chapter could finally begin.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Thank the gods, we're finally here," Durza said, dismounting his horse with a sigh. "That was an experience I could have lived without."

Arya, her hands bound once more, glared at him. "An experience _you_ could have lived without?" she muttered.

"I said it was bad, not that yours wasn't worse," Durza said without turning to look at her. Arya jumped in surprise. It seemed a Shade's hearing was sharper than she had realized. "And I would advise you to hold your tongue, princess. Not all of the King's men are as…_forgiving_ as I am."

Arya couldn't think of a response cutting enough, so she just spat at the Shade. Durza shook his head. "I will be _so_ glad to pass you off to someone else…"

Arya sat up straighter. "What?"

"Did you honestly think I would _want_ to stay around you for any longer than I had to?"

"That's not what I meant," Arya said, twisting her hands in her lap.

Durza smirked. "You want to know who's going to be in charge of you? That, I'm afraid I can't tell you. The King will assign someone."

Arya choked off a sob. She didn't want to think about where she might end up…or who she might end up with.

Durza glanced back. "What's so bad about that? Your torture can't be any worse than it already was, I assure you. In fact, I would expect your situation to improve once you're out of my hands."

Arya took a deep breath, steadying herself. In all probability, he was right. The Shade was a monster—no normal creature, not even a human, would have done such things to her. She held herself with as much dignity as she could as Durza lead his horse into the Gil'ead. They went unnoticed under the cloak of night, and were soon within the safety of the King's fortress.

"Let's go, princess," Durza said, motioning for Arya to dismount. She considered explaining yet again that she couldn't do it with her hands bound—so far Durza had given in and untied her hands every time—but then she clamped her jaw shut. She would not ask for assistance in front of the other soldiers who had gathered, wanting to see the General's prize prisoner.

_Oh no, don't tell me she's going to—_

Arya swung her leg sideways and slid to the ground, but she couldn't use her arms to balance her and toppled forward. Durza grabbed her arm and pulled her upright, then dragged her off up the corridor.

"Thank you so much for that," Durza said, gritting his teeth. "I really needed that extra headache…"

"Would you rather be seen aiding your own prisoner?" Arya said, struggling to keep up with the Shade. She knew it probably wasn't wise to keep goading him, but she couldn't hold in the angry words. _Mother was right—I really _should_ have learned to keep my mouth shut_, Arya thought with a sigh.

The inside of the fortress passed in a blur. Arya was vaguely aware of countless doorways and corridors connecting to their own, and of many heads turning to look at them as they rushed past. Soon, they were at the head of a long stone staircase.

"If you knock me down these stairs, you will regret it," Durza said before starting down them.

Arya thought it prudent to take him at his word; she was having enough trouble staying upright herself. Before long, they had reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the dungeons. They passed several cells before coming to a small door at the end of the room. Durza dug in his pocket for a key, then opened it and shoved Arya inside.

The room was cold and dim, containing only a mat to sleep on and a bucket in the corner. Arya fell to the floor at another push from the Shade.

"Goodbye, princess. It is my sincere hope that we will never meet again," Durza said, turning to leave.

"Wait—what's going to happen to me now?" Arya said.

Durza paused for a moment, half-turning back to her. "The King will decide that."

The door slammed shut, and Arya was alone.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Murtagh crouched in a clump of bushes by the edge of the road. Tornac was deeper in the woods, well-hidden. As soon as he was sure the road was clear, Murtagh would set out for Gil'ead. It was almost nightfall, the perfect time to travel in secret.

Murtagh was about to return to where Tornac was waiting and get ready to go, but then he heard hoofbeats. Someone was coming…why would a lone traveler be on the road at this hour? Murtagh shrank back into the trees, straining to see who was coming. He caught a glimpse of a tall, iron-gray stallion, moving at a steady walk. And on his back…

Through the shadow of the trees, Murtagh caught a glimpse of hair as red as welling blood, a pale face, sharp red eyes…the General of the King's armies—Durza, the Shade. Murtagh cursed under his breath. He was in terrible danger—the Shade's senses were far sharper than a human's, and he could see well even in the dark.

_Did the King send him? Does he know that I'm here? But how could he—they wouldn't expect me to go to Gil'ead! Maybe…maybe it's just a coincidence—maybe he's heading to Gil'ead for some reason? But no…he's coming _from_ Gil'ead._

There was only one thing it could mean—the King had guessed Murtagh's plan. How he had done it didn't matter at this point. The question was, should he continue on the Gil'ead…or try to go back?

Murtagh pressed himself against the tree, hoping there was enough shadow to conceal him. He didn't dare move until Durza left…_if_ he left.

The Shade was searching the ground for tracks, and Murtagh thanked the gods he had stayed on horseback and left the road the night before. If only Durza would decide no one had come this way, and leave…

But to Murtagh's horror, Durza had found something. He was crouching by the edge of the road, not two yards from Murtagh's hiding place, peering intently at something.

_Damn…where I slipped there—I must not have covered up the marks well enough—he'll figure out I went in here…!_

But it seemed that Murtagh had hidden the scuff marks at the edge of the road better than he had thought. Durza looked back and forth, but then he shook his head and got up. Glancing around one more time, he cursed vividly and mounted his horse again, heading on up the road. Murtagh sighed, slumping down at the base of the tree.

After a few moments of just sitting there and taking deep, calming breaths, he stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Tornac came trotting towards him, winding his way through the trees.

"Let's go, boy," Murtagh whispered, stroking Tornac's nose. "It's time to finish what I set out to do…I'll find my mother. And if she's—if anything's happened to her—" Murtagh stopped, swallowing hard. "I'll…I'll avenge her," he whispered, his eyes dark. If he wanted to find out more about his mother, then he had to follow Durza…the last member of the King's army who had spoken to her before she disappeared. The memory of that day was burned into memory, even though he had only been five years old. His mother's face had been thin and drawn by then, so very tired…so very sad.

_"Mama, what's going on? Why are you packing up?" Murtagh asked, looking up at his mother. She was rushing about the room, stuffing things in a bag. Her eyes darted here and there, her wispy hair hung about her face in total disarray._

_"Shh, Murtagh—I'm just going on a little trip. You'll be fine."_

_Murtagh shivered. "Do I…have to stay here with Daddy?"_

_His mother stopped suddenly, her face pale. "No—no…I can't let you do that. But what else can I…?"_

_An idea seemed to come to her—she rang the small bell on her night table, calling for her chamber maid. They whispered together for a moment, then the maid hurried away. Murtagh watched it all, his small face twisted in confusion._

_"Mama, where will you go?"_

_She ran a hand over her face. "You're…very young, sweetheart. Someday you'll know…but for now…" She paused, uttering a soft sob. "There's…someone I'm going to visit. An—an old friend, who's been looking after…something. As a favor to me. And it's a secret. Do you understand, Murtagh?"_

_Murtagh nodded firmly, his jaw set. He knew what that meant—don't tell Daddy. He would never, ever tell Daddy his Mama's secret and make Daddy angry at her, even if Daddy hit him again._

_The door opened again, and a foot soldier came in, pulling off his helm and shaking out his dark red hair. "You called, Lady Selene?" he said, sounding somewhere between annoyance and boredom. _

_"Yes, Durza," Selene said, managing a thin, tight smile. "There's something I want you to do."_

_Durza sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. As a low-ranking soldier in the King's army, he had no choice but to obey Lady Selene's command, whatever it was. He understood that this was a soldier's duty—he just wished it wasn't always _him_ that Selene called for. "What is it, Lady Selene?"_

_Selene lifted Murtagh in her arms. He was getting too tall to be carried much longer, but he didn't try to get free—he knew instinctively that his mother was comforting herself right now, not him._

_"Take him," Selene said, giving Murtagh to Durza. "Look after him while I'm…while I'm away."_

_"WHAT!?" Durza said, losing all semblance of calm and nearly dropping Murtagh. "Where are you—wh—why _me_!?"_

_Selene patted Murtagh's head. "Sit still, sweetheart," she said, seeing that he was about to smack Durza in the face with his small fist._

_"Lady Selene, where are you going?"_

_"Away," Selene said firmly, drawing herself up. "And that's not how you hold a child—put your hands here, be careful with him!"_

_"But—why _me_!?" Durza said._

_Selene slipped on a warm coat and picked up her pack. "I trust you."_

_"Why in the name of the gods would you?"_

_Selene turned back, her eyes filling with tears. "Because you don't care about serving the King. Because you know what it means to be willing to die for something. Because…because you've lost something precious, too."_

_With that, she turned and rushed out. Durza was still in shock, both by the idea that someone would trust him and by Selene's bizarre reasons why she did. Murtagh squirmed uncomfortably, and Durza promptly dropped him to his feet._

_"Great…now I have to look after this brat?" Durza muttered. "I'm a solider, what am I supposed to do with him out in the field or in battle?" Then an idea came to him. "Come on, brat," he said to Murtagh, turning on his heel and walking off down the hall._

_Murtagh scurried after him, taking several strides with his short legs to each of Durza's. He soon began to fall behind, but he refused to complain. He would make his Mama proud!_

_Durza, realizing that he could no longer hear Murtagh's footfalls, turned to look behind him. Murtagh was trotting along, panting, his mouth hanging open. Durza sighed. It was going to be a long, long day._

_"I am not carrying him," the Shade muttered to himself. "No way! I am _not_ a babysitter!"_

_Murtagh, having finally caught up, flopped down at Durza's feet, gasping and rubbing his sore feet. The Shade took a deep breath and counted to ten, willing himself to remain calm._

_"Fine…come here, brat." Murtagh wearily got up and came over. Durza, scowling, lifted the child onto his shoulders and continued down the hall. Murtagh had to try very, very hard not to burst out laughing; he didn't want to get dropped again._

_For Murtagh, the journey was over far too soon. He could see everything from his high perch, and there was plenty to watch. Soldiers were coming and go, workers and servants, everyone lost in the overall hustle and bustle. Most of them stopped to laugh and Murtagh and Durza, but they usually hid it behind their hands. Durza might be only a low-ranking soldier, but he was still a terrifying monster._

_At last they reached the doors of a small armory. It was quiet here, and dusty; Murtagh sneezed when Durza set him down on the floor. "Tornac!" Durza said. "Tornac, are you here?"_

_A tall man in armor came through the doors. "Yes? Who called m—oh, it's you, Durza. What is it?"_

_"Here," Durza said, giving Murtagh a push towards the man. "Lady Selene's going somewhere—she wanted me to take care of her brat."_

_"What does that have to do with me?" Tornac asked, although he had a hunch where this was going._

_"You think I know how to take care of a child? You had a daughter, didn't you? _You_ take care of him." Before Tornac could reply, Durza left at top speed, slowing down only when he was out of shouting range._

_In the armory, Murtagh stared up at Tornac with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Who're you?"_

_Tornac smiled and crouched down next to Murtagh. "My name's Tornac. I train the soldiers. Don't mind Durza—he has…well, maybe he doesn't have good intentions, but he's not so bad. But never mind that. You look like a strong young man—why don't you stay with me? I'll teach you everything I know."_

_Murtagh's eyes widened. "Really!?"_

_"Of course, really," Tornac said, laughing. He had a nice laugh, loud and friendly. "So how about it?"_

_Murtagh grinned broadly. "Yeah!"_

Murtagh smiled as he thought of it. Tornac had been like a second father to him, the man his real father had never been. He had taught Murtagh how to fight with a sword, how to shoot a bow, how to hunt and track, how to ride…Murtagh had learned just about everything from him.

_And to think it was Durza who sent me to him in the first place…I wonder how they knew each other, anyway? Tornac never said…_

Murtagh shook his head. Now wasn't the time for reminiscing—he had to get to Gil'ead as soon as possible.

"Let's go," Murtagh whispered to his horse, the horse he had named after his mentor. He got into the saddle and galloped off into the deepening night.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"So? What did you think, Murtagh? …Murtagh? Where'd he go?" Subieko said, looking around. Murtagh was nowhere to be seen.

"He left before, while you were writing the flashback," Arya said.

"What!? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Durza shrugged. "Er…you were busy? But anyway, why didn't I find Murtagh? I'm a great magician and a hunter and I can see in the dark and I definitely would have noticed him!"

"Well…you were in a hurry? Besides, Murtagh's just cool like that. Not even _you_ can find him when he doesn't want to be found. He has uber-skills," Subieko said.

"Then why did I have to go look for him? I looked like an idiot!"

"Because Galby ordered you to, that's why!"

"What about _me_?" Arya said, frowning. "I got locked up in prison again—I didn't even get to try fighting for my freedom or anything! This is all _his_ fault!" she added, pointing to Durza. The Shade cringed.

"It is _not_ my fault!" he cried.

Subieko nodded. "It really isn't. Galby ordered him to take you to Gil'ead and lock you up."

Durza and Arya turned very slowly to look at Galbatorix. "What?" the King said. "I'm the evil overlord—ordering around idiot minions and locking up prisoners is what I do!"

The two got up and stalked forward, feral gleams in their eyes. Galbatorix started backing up very slowly. "Hey—wait a minute…nothing really happened to yet—I didn't mean it about the idiot thing—"

There was a loud clang as Durza and Arya both blasted Galbatorix with their magic. "All your base are belong to us!" Durza cried, standing over the fallen King.

Arya nodded. "Sucks like a horseshoe to be you."

Turning to each other, the two high-fived, cheering.

Eragon and Saphira watched them, highly disturbed. "Wasn't she beating him up before?"

_Don't ask me—it must be some weird elf thing or something._

"He's not an elf!"

_Yeah, but he's just plain weird._

"I'm not sure I like this," Eragon muttered. Getting up, he marched over to where Arya and Durza were congratulating each other on their success. "Knock it off, Shade—Arya's _my_ girlfriend!"

"I am not your girlfriend!" Arya shouted, smacking Eragon in the head.

"I would never go out with her!" Durza shouted, also smacking Eragon.

The two high-fived again as Eragon fell to the floor, his ears ringing. Saphira shook her head, blowing out a puff of smoke.

_I could have told him that would happen._


	17. Nightmares

Author's Note: Chapter 15 is here, with more of Eragon, Arya, and Durza! This chapter is a little slower-paced, doesn't move the plot forward as much. It's also a little non-linear--it skips around to the different characters. I think it turned out all right, though. Now...review replies!

JJ: (laughs) fanclubs? Glad you liked Murtagh's big debut.

alsdssg: I'm glad you like Arya--she's turned out different than I thought she would (which may explain why she keeps beating up the other characters...heh.).

dragon of spirits: I'm happy that my version of Murtagh pleased a bona fide Murtagh fan.

Eminem Rocks!: Yep, the dividers worked nicely...thank you again for the suggestion. Hmm...actually, I hadn't thought of Murtagh's...well, thought...that way, but you're right, they would know each other. They seem to know each other pretty well, though...but I won't give away the plot. (grins)

Miss Pookamonga: I see Durza as a little ambiguous...not evil in the same way as Galby. And yes, Selene's 'something' will be revealed...not sure when, but it will be. And Little Murtagh is way too cute.

JsyGirl: Yep, I got the 'sucks like a horseshoe' from the Nanoisms thread! And the 'all your base are belong to us' is...actually I don't know where it's from, I've just heard it a lot. But sucks like a horseshoe was too good to languish on the nano forums.

I forgot to mention this before, but in the last chapter, one of Durza's lines was a (paraphrased) Darth Vader quote. And in this chapter, Fatima's name is taken from a character from The Alchemist, an excellent book. Beyond that they have nothing in common, though. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 15: Nightmares

"Hey…Arya?" Subieko said, gazing vaguely out the window.

"Yes?" Arya said, coming over. She was wearing a pair of leather gloves, presumably to prevent her hands from getting scratched if she decided to attack anyone else.

"I've decided to change your hair color."

There was a moment of silence. Eragon and Saphira, realizing what was coming, took shelter behind the couch, clamping their hands over their ears.

"What are you two doing?" Brom asked. Eragon shook his head and motioned for Brom to join them. He hesitated, saw the look on Arya's face, then dived for cover.

"WHAT!?"

Birds took off from the trees outside. Glasses shattered. Durza writhed in agony with his hands over his ears. Brom, Eragon, and Saphira huddled together in fear.

Subieko continued to stare vaguely out the window. "Yeah…see, in the GBA game your hair is red, and I like that better than black for you…"

"But—but—my raven locks! NO!"

"You look better as a red-head! Besides, everyone knows red-heads are cool. Right, Durza?"

Durza slowly got up, rubbing his still-ringing ears. "Unh…yeah, sure…"

"You're just saying that because you have red hair!" Arya said.

"Am not!" Subieko said. "You just look cooler that way—at least I'm not making you blonde, like in the movie. You're just _not_ a blond."

"…do I really look better with red hair?" Arya said, turning to the other characters.

They glanced at each other, not sure what the right reaction would be. Eragon, of course, didn't think at all about his reply. "You _always_ look beautiful, Arya!"

Arya treated him to a slightly-less-icy-than-usual glare and turned to Brom.

"Uhhh…er…I'm no great judge of beauty—don't know a thing about it!"

Arya's eyes narrowed, and Brom shrieked and hid behind Saphira. The elf turned to Galbatorix.

"I hate elves!" the King said. Arya rolled her eyes and turned to Durza. Then she reconsidered. "Hmm…nah, I don't really care what you think."

"Whatever!" Durza said, crossing his arms over his chest. "It doesn't matter what color your hair is, you're still a loser. And you don't deserve to have red hair, it's too cool for you!"

The other characters winced, shutting their eyes. They had a feeling they knew what was coming.

Arya turned around very, very slowly. "Well, at least I don't look like a post-apocalyptic Carrot Top!"

"I do not look like that—that was all the movie's fault!"

"Is not—who has maroon hair? And your eyes match your hair, that's just weird!"

"Well at least my hair isn't described as about fifty bajillion colors—black, ebony, raven, the list goes on!"

"That's because my hair has a multitude of shades, each as beautiful and elegant as the last!"

Durza rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. If you were _really_ beautiful, it wouldn't have to be described every five seconds! Compensating much?"

"Who's compensating? You're the one who's always barking and hissing and whispering icily!"

"Not anymore—I've become an expressive person," Durza said proudly, waving copies of his chapters in Arya's face.

"Well I can be even more beautiful, no matter what color my hair is! Subieko—change it _right now_!"

Eragon, Brom, and Saphira watched in shock. Why was Durza not screaming in intense pain from Arya's wrath? They half-expected the world to end.

"Sure thing, Arya," Subieko said, being very careful not to smile and annoy Arya. It would never do for her to change her mind now. "Now…how about we get a start on the chapter?"

Arya and Durza sat down on either side of Subieko, glaring at each other. "I'll show you," Arya muttered.

"You wish," Durza said back.

Eragon and Brom approached very warily and sat down as far from Arya and Durza as possible. "I don't like this," Eragon whispered to Brom.

The old man just shrugged. "I'm not going to provoke her," he said. Eragon didn't know whether Brom was talking about Arya or Subieko.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon stirred in his sleep, shivering in the cool night air. He and Brom had been traveling away from Yazuac for days, always fearing to run into more Urgals. Brom was trying to teach Eragon to control his magic, but so far all Eragon knew was not to use it. Trying to use the simplest spells exhausted him, and he could barely do so much as light their campfire.

Huddling further into his blankets, Eragon sank deeper into sleep, dreaming about the strangest things. He was at home on the farm, and Roran and Garrow were there. They were sitting at the big table, crying.

"He's gone," Garrow was saying. "He's gone away…he'll never come back, now."

Roran nodded. "He's not ours anymore…not ours anymore."

Eragon tried to tell them that he would come home someday, that he missed them, but they turned on him in rage.

"You're not one of us! You're not one of us!" they shouted. Roran reached out and shoved him, and Eragon felt himself falling…

Then he was standing before the gates of a walled city. The walls grew and grew until he could see nothing else, and he heard laughter echoing through them. Eragon was frightened, and tried to run, but he couldn't move. But then a hand reached out and pulled him away…it was a boy his own age, his face cloaked in shadows. The boy faded away slowly. Eragon tried to follow him, but no matter how fast he ran, he didn't get anywhere.

Strange bits and pieces of dreams flashed in and out of his consciousness. A tall man, pale-skinned with wild red hair, shouting something…a dark-skinned man in bright armor, beside him a slender girl…a horde of men—but no, they couldn't be men, they were shorter than Eragon…then trees, endless trees, and a tall lady, shining with a blinding light.

Then very suddenly, it all rushed away, leaving a far clearer picture. A young woman was huddled in the corner of a small, dark room. Her clothes were torn and stained, and her face was too thin. She was shivering, and Eragon felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. He had a strange but undeniable feeling that danger was approaching her, coming closer with every second.

Then, quite suddenly, she looked up. Her eyes widened, and she stretched out a hand to him. Eragon wanted to reach out to her in return, but he was frozen. She seemed to recognize him, and she called out. He could see that she was shouting, but he could still barely hear her.

"—Gil'ead—in Gil'ead—danger—you must—come—"

Eragon felt himself starting to awaken, but with all his strength he cried out, "I'll come! I'll come to find you!"

The last thing Eragon saw was the woman's beautiful green eyes, filled with horror.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Durza lay at the base of a large oak tree, the moon turning his pale skin corpse-white. A slight breeze stirred the tree's leaves, but Durza didn't awaken. He was lost in a dream.

_The smell of smoke was overpowering. Black fumes billowed from the circle of tents, blinding Carsib, making him gag. He staggered through the ruins, trying to navigate by his ears alone. The screams of the wounded and the dying were all around him, and the sounds of battle._

_"Who are they—why are they attacking us?" he cried, stumbling and falling to his knees._

I don't know, _Durza said. _Hakim said something about this, didn't he?

_"He said…he said there were rumors of war. Some people called the…Varden, I think, were attacking the Empire."_

_A new scream pierced the air, one that Carsib recognized. "Fatima!" He got to his feet and ran through the camp. He could see fire through the smoke, and he heard the jingle of armor…there she was—Carsib saw a flash of her red hair. She had fallen to the ground, and a mounted warrior was standing over her._

_"No!" Carsib shouted, racing forward and summoning all of his magical strength. "Durza, help me!"_

_Carsib didn't even have to ask. Together, they cast shadows toward the rider, blinding him and his horse. Then Carsib threw fire at him, feeling a twinge of guilt—his home was already burning. The horse reared and fled, throwing the man to the ground, unconscious._

_"Fatima—Fatima!" Carsib said, shaking her. Her face was stained with blood from a wound on her head, and her breath was ragged._

_"C…Carsib…"_

_"What happened?" Carsib asked her._

_Fatima's eyes flickered shut. "A great beast came from the sky…fire came out of its mouth…everything was burning…"_

_"A…Rider?" Carsib whispered, horrified. Tears were rolling down his face now. _

_Fatima drew a last, shuddering breath, and her eyes closed once and for all. "NO!" Carsib shrieked, clutching her tightly. "Fatima, wake up—you have to open your eyes—"_

Look out!

_Carsib looked up. The warrior who had fallen from his horse had awakened. He was standing over them, holding a curved sword. Carsib began to shake with rage. This was the man who had…_

_"You killed her—I'll kill you!" he shouted, leaping forward and striking the man with his bare hands. Magic flowed through Carsib, uncontrolled. But the warrior struck out with the hilt of sword, hitting Carsib in the temple. Carsib fell on his back in the sand, struggling to rise and avoid the man's blade…_

Carsib, get up—run!

_Carsib tried to stand, but he collapsed again, dizzy with pain. Durza was helpless—a spirit could not act on a non-magic user without the help of the sorcerer who was his partner._

_The warrior's blade was a bright arc, as bright as the flames that surrounded them. It came flashing down…_

"NO!" Durza cried, sitting up. Coming fully awake, he slumped back against the tree's trunk, panting. "Just a dream…"

The sky was brightening now; it was just before dawn. Durza got up, stretching. Carsib was often in his dreams—often in his thoughts, for that matter—but he hadn't thought of Fatima for many years.

"All that time spent forgetting, and now you're back in my dreams," Durza said softly.

Saddling his horse, the Shade prepared to set out for Gil'ead again. No one could live in the world of dreams, no matter much he might like to.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya tossed and turned in her cell. She was exhausted in body and mind, and terrified of the coming dawn. Her fears manifested themselves in dark dreams.

She saw the boy again in her dream—the dragon rider, the one who had found the blue egg. He was standing there in her cell, looking at her. She opened her mouth to warn him of his danger, but she was tired she could hardly get the words out.

"The Ra'zac are chasing you! You must stay away from Gil'ead—the King's General, the Shade, is in Gil'ead. You're in terrible danger—you must not come to Gil'ead!"

He was fading away now, but before he was gone, he cried, "I'll come! I'll come to find you!"

"NO!" Arya screamed, but the boy had already vanished, and she found herself lost in an endless void. She wandered, weak and ill, unable to find a way out of the darkness. Then she saw a light ahead of her, glowing softly. She ran toward it, tears of relief streaming down her face. It brightened until it swallowed everything, and before her was a beautiful palace.

It was surrounded by tall trees, and in the distance she could hear the call of seabirds and the crash of waves. Above the forest canopy its gray towers rose, delicate, graceful. Arya felt a strong desire to enter, and she walked toward it. Standing in the doorway of the palace were many tall, beautiful people, shining as though filled with light. She held out her hands to them, and they reached for her, laughing merrily.

But then a shadow blocked their light, and the Shade was standing over her. In his hand was a pale, slender sword, with a long, thin scratch on the blade. It was dripping with blood. He raised the blade again, and Arya screamed for help.

With that, she awoke, gasping as though she really had been screaming. She lay on her back in the cell, shivering, and thought of the boy. Could her dream have been real? Dragon riders all possessed strong magic—maybe they had somehow been able to communicate. But if that was the case, he was in worse danger than ever.

"I must contact him again," Arya said. "Have to warn him…"

Arya closed her eyes again, waiting for the dawn.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Subieko, this chapter has no _plot_!" Eragon said.

Subieko glared at him. "It does so have a plot—didn't you notice how you promised to go to Gil'ead and rescue Arya? Sheesh, how dumb can you be?"

"I'm not dumb!" Eragon said, but he was thrust out of the way by Arya. "I hardly got any part at all in that chapter!"

"Yes you did—you sent Eragon the message!"

"But he misinterpreted it!"

"Yeah, well, that's his fault," Subieko said, shrugging. Arya promptly left Subieko alone to go whack Eragon in the head again.

Durza read through the chapter, frowning. "How come all of my chapters are creepy?"

"Er…"

"Because you _are_ creepy," Galbatorix said. "You're a villain—what did you expect?"  
"But—"

"Arya's chapters are creepy too," Galbatorix continued, drowning out Durza's protests. "But then she's an elf. Elves are creepy."

Realizing that Durza and Arya were right next to him, Galbatorix wisely fled before either of them could get irritated enough to attack him. Again.

"Well, I don't think it was creepy," Subieko said. "Just because it's a little angsty doesn't mean it's creepy! And some non-creepy stuff is coming up for you soon."

"Well, that's good," Durza said. "Hey—why'd you make Arya change her hair color? You didn't even mention it in the chapter."

Subieko shrugged, smiling in a knowing manner that was extremely irritating. "Oh…I have my reasons. Besides, she really _does_ look better that way. Like I said, red-heads are cool—you should know."

Durza nodded firmly. Whatever else might happen in the story, that would never change.


	18. Mission

Author's Note: Chapter 16 is here...I'm not terribly pleased with it, but it turned out all right. It's more of a transition than anything...and I have now decided that instead of typing out review replies, I should just use that little 'review reply' button...(whacks self in forehead) Prally should've thought of that before...(laughs). Anyway...here it is. Enjoy!

Chapter 16: Mission

"You know, Subieko, I feel like you're showing some favoritism in this!" Eragon said, examining the latest chapters.

"What do you mean, favoritism? I'm completely fair in all my decisions!"

"But you keep writing the most about Durza and Arya!" Brom said. "Me and Eragon keep getting short-changed."

"That's not favoritism," said Arya. "That's good taste. Well, about me anyway."

"I'm still the main character—I should be in more of the story than both of you combined, like in the original story!"

"Yeah, well, complain to your fellow protagonists," Subieko said, dismissing them with a wave of her hand.

Eragon dragged Brom, Saphira, and Arya off to one corner to argue with them. The King, Durza, and Murtagh remained, staring around awkwardly.

"Why didn't they take Murtagh with them?" Durza asked Subieko.

She shot Murtagh a nasty glare. "He's being very standoffish lately…he won't talk to me at all. Hmph."

"Never mind that," Galbatorix said. "Durza…we need to talk."

Durza gulped and followed the King of to another corner of the room.

Murtagh flopped down on the couch next to Subieko. "_Why_ won't you talk to me?" she said to him.

Murtagh said nothing. He stared ahead of him without moving a bit. Nothing on his face betrayed his inner feelings.

Subieko sighed, her chin in her hands. "Would you talk if I gave you chocolate?"

"…I'll consider it," Murtagh said. And Subieko had to be content with that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon awoke with a start, gasping. He quickly scrambled out of his bedroll and shook Brom. "Brom, wake up—hurry!"

Brom groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Unh…what is it, Eragon?"

"I just had this strange dream—she's in danger, we have to help her, she asked me to come find her!"

Brom sat up, more awake now. "What's this?"

Eragon hurriedly told Brom what he could remember of his dream—the red-haired woman he had spoken to.

"Can you describe her?" Brom asked, rubbing his chin.

Eragon sat back on his heels, trying to think back. "She was very beautiful. She had green eyes, sort of funny-shaped…a little slanted. And her face was thin, sort of…narrow, I guess."

Brom frowned. "Could she be…an elf? An elf would have the strength to contact you in a dream, it's true…but what would one be doing in Gil'ead? Unless…a Varden agent?"

"You know the Varden?" Eragon said. He had suspected it for a while now—how else could Brom know so much about the dragon riders, and how else could he have gotten Zar'roc?

"Sort of," Brom said. "I was a member at one time, although I retired many years ago…an old man has the right to a little peace and quiet."

"We're going to rescue her, right? We can't just…leave her there…"

"I don't know," Brom said slowly. "If she's been imprisoned by the Empire…it might take more strength than we have to free her."

Eragon leapt to his feet. "Brom, we've got to try—she needs us! What if we're the only ones who know where she is? She was hurt, there was blood on her face—she looked exhausted—we can't abandon her!"

Brom got up as well, smiling. "I never said we wouldn't try," he said, ruffling Eragon's hair. "I just meant we need to be cautious. We're going to have to plan very carefully for this on our way to Gil'ead…"

Eragon cheered, hugging Saphira. Then he scrambled to help Brom break camp so they could set off at once.

_Hang on…I'm coming!_ Eragon thought. Beside him, Saphira chirped her agreement.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"No, no, no! You're going about it all wrong. Now, try again. Take a deep breath…in…and out."

Eragon sighed and did as Brom told him. Brom still wouldn't let him try to use any spells. He tutored Eragon as best he could in the Ancient Language, the only language that could describe all things with total accuracy, but Eragon was making only slow progress. Now Brom was trying to teach him something he called 'mental defense.'

"If you want to use magic effectively, you must sharpen your mind! Focus—_control_ the power, control your thoughts! Prepare your defenses again, and we'll try the exercise once more."

Eragon could have told Brom that he was worn out from the last three tries, or that riding a horse and learning total concentration at the same time was very, very difficult, or that he still didn't really understand what he was supposed to be doing, but he didn't say a word. He wasn't going to give in like that.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon tried to concentrate only on the image of a thick stone wall. He imagined that it surrounded him, surrounded his thoughts, keeping out everything else. Brom's mental assault would come any moment now, but Eragon couldn't allow himself to feel nervous; that would weaken his defense.

There it was! A blow struck Eragon's wall, and cracks appeared in it. Eragon hastened to imagine them whole again, but Brom was too quick. Now water was rushing through the gaps, drowning Eragon. Gasping, Eragon leaned forward on his horse, defeated again.

"That was better," Brom said. "You're still just learning how to feel that part of your mind, let alone use it. With practice you'll be able to shield your mind with much less effort."

Eragon nodded wearily. They were still riding toward Gil'ead, along the Ninor River. Eragon wanted to go at a faster pace, but Brom insisted they not rush in, 'like a pair of fools!' as he said it. He also wanted to give Eragon a little more training in his magic. If they got into a battle, it would be disastrous for Eragon to lose control of it again.

"Brom…why do you need the Ancient Language for magic?"

Brom started digging in his pouch for his pipe. Eragon grinned; that was a sure sign that a long explanation was coming. "Hmmm…difficult to explain," Brom said, blowing out a puff of smoke. "I suppose to start you have to understand why magic works at all. What do you think happens when I say 'brisingr', for example?"

Eragon blinked. "But—but you just said it and nothing happened! I thought—"

"You thought the words made magic happen, just like that?" Brom laughed. "It's all right—that's a common misconception. Eragon, when I use the fire-spell, I'm telling whatever I cast it on to burn. I have to convince the thing to do it, and the Ancient Language is the only language that everything—even objects, like a rock or a log—understands. You need to communicate what you want to happen. But anyone can learn the Ancient Language."

"So anyone can do magic?"

Brom shook his head. "Of course not. A magician's power is used _through_ the Language—it isn't the language itself. No, the power of a magician is to channel his magical energy. For example, in order for a log to burst into flame when I tell it to, I have to provide the power needed for the fire. The larger the fire I want, the more power I need to give. And of course you have to have the strength of will to _enforce_ those commands. A magician without will may tell a log to burn, but it might well ignore him."

"How could a log ignore someone? It can't, you know, _think_ or anything."

Brom raised an eyebrow. "Can't it? How would you know? Some people say that everything has an…essence, of sorts. They may not be alive in the way that you're used to thinking of it, but it's life all the same. Even a rock has desires."

"What could a rock ever want?" Eragon said, laughing.

"Oh…all sorts of things. Rocks get very irritated when there's a bad storm and they're washed away, for example—they like to stay put, rocks. Very stubborn things."

Eragon laughed even harder. "Brom, you mean you can _talk_ to _rocks_?"

"You can talk to anything," Brom said, glaring at Eragon. "The real trick is getting it to talk back."

"Then…I could do it, too?"

Brom nodded. "If you really do try to learn the Ancient Language, then yes."

Eragon's face fell. "But—that could take years! I want to talk to them _now_!"

"Years, hm?"

"Of course—no one can learn a whole new language overnight."

Brom was smiling in a way that irritated Eragon. "Quite right."

"Brom, you know something—tell me what it is. Come on, please?"

Brom just shook his head. "There are some things it's better to figure out for yourself."

And Eragon could get no more out of him than that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Murtagh stroked Tornac's nose, whispering a quick goodbye before leaving the small stable. He had paid the owner to take care of Tornac until Murtagh decided to leave Gil'ead. Now Murtagh was free to explore the city…and more importantly, free to hunt for Durza.

_Now where would I be if I was him…?_ Murtagh slapped himself lightly on the forehead, laughing at himself. "Duh…I'd be in the fortress, of course. But how can I get in there?"

It was high-risk, of course—he could easily be captured. But the memory of his mother's back as she walked out of his life forever flashed behind Murtagh's eyes again, and he knew he couldn't stop now.

Murtagh ducked back into an alleyway, his heart pounding. A group of Imperial troops was passing, and Murtagh had only just avoided them. They were laughing together, half-drunk; Murtagh supposed they were off-duty. And then a slow smile spread across Murtagh's face as the perfect plan became clear to him.

Poking his head out of the alley, Murtagh glanced down the street. Good—some more soldiers were going into a nearby tavern. Now all he had to do was wait.

And sure enough, a group of them staggered out an hour or two later. Murtagh's legs were stiff by now, and he had a crick in his neck. _Dammit, this had better be worth it…_

As the group stumbled by, Murtagh put two fingers in his mouth and gave a high-pitched whistle. A wolf-whistle, people called it—the kind of whistle a hooker gave to sailors coming ashore for a holiday. Murtagh grimaced, but he had to get one of them over to him somehow.

One of the soldiers grinned foolishly and started towards the alleyway. The others wandered on, not noticing a thing. Murtagh held his breath as the man stopped at the mouth of the alley, looking around, then shambled past. A quick blow to the head knocked him out, and Murtagh quickly removed the man's uniform.

"Ugh," Murtagh said, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of alcohol. "But I can't be picky."

Pulling on the stolen uniform, Murtagh jammed the helmet onto his head, half-hiding his face. Then, grimacing, he rubbed some dirt from the alley on his face to obscure his features.

_Too bad I don't have any paint pigments…I could give myself a strange scar, or something._

Taking a deep breath, Murtagh stepped out of the alleyway. As long as no one looked too closely, he should be able to pass as one of the King's soldiers. Now all he had to do was get into the fortress and find Durza.

Murtagh was painfully aware of the many holes in his plan. Chief among his worries was what to do if he actually found Durza. He tried to imagine himself holding the Shade at sword point and demanding answers, and had to bit back a laugh. Espionage was right out, as well—the Shade's hearing was sharp, and he might even have magical wards against spies. So what could he do?

Murtagh decided to cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he had to concentrate on getting into the fortress at all.

_Soon I'll find you, Durza…and you'll tell me the truth. I've waited ten long years to hear it—a little longer won't hurt._

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Look, Eragon, I just don't see what the big deal is!" Arya said, her arms crossed.

"Big deal? I'll tell you why it's a big deal! Because I'm the main character, not you guys! All of the original Eragon is from _my_ point-of-view, but now you and Durza and Murtagh? It's just _wrong_!"

"I wish _I_ had a chapter from my point of view," Brom said sadly, leaning back against the wall, totally ignored.

"I feel your pain, man," whispered Roran from his hiding place under the desk. "Come with me, and form the resistance movement! Already Garrow, Katrina, and Jeod have joined…"

"No way!" Brom hissed back. "I'm _this close_ to dying as it is—once he rescues Arya, I'm finished! I can't risk it…"

"Coward!" Roran said. Leaping up, he yanked out a hammer from Subieko's garage and tried to hit Brom with it. Unfortunately, hammers are not really designed as weapons of war and are in fact more suitable for hitting nails. So when Eragon blocked it with his shield, the hammer was knocked out of Roran's hands with a rather large dent.

"Roran, go away—you weren't in this part of the story even in the original!"

Roran stalked away, muttering about characters' rights and going on strike. Shaking his head, Eragon turned back to Arya. "Arya, I'm the main character. I'm going to tell Subieko to give me more chapters right now! And you're supposed to be unconscious, anyway!"

Eragon stalked off, followed by Saphira and Brom. Arya remained standing by the window, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "We'll see about that," she said.

"But, sir, I just don't see what the big deal is!" Durza said, cringing in front of Galbatorix.

"Big deal? I'll tell you why it's a big deal! I'm the main villain, not you! We villains were supposed to get more focus, but instead it's just you lollygagging about and not even being very villainous!"

"I wish _we_ were in the story more," an Urgal said sadly, leaning back against the wall, totally ignored.

"We feel your pain, man," said the Ra'zac, who were slouching against the wall nearby. "We got totally short-changed! It'ssss about time we got ssssome resssspect!"

"…why is 's' the only letter you can't say? Your mouths are all weird," Durza said, inching away from the creepy monsters.

"Never mind that!" Galbatorix said. "At least _they're_ good henchmen. _They_ didn't betray me and steal my spotlight! _They_ at least act villainous! I'm going to tell Subieko to give me more chapters right now! And _you're_ going to stop hanging out with her and getting her to put you in chapters!"

Galbatorix stalked off, followed by the Ra'zac and a few lonely Urgals. Durza remained standing awkwardly in the corner, sighing. Then someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped about a foot in the air.

"Gah—don't _do_ that to me! Can't you see I'm busy bemoaning my fate?"

"Oh stop whining," Arya said. "It's _me_ who has to worry! Subieko only started writing me into so many chapters because _you_ were in them!"

Durza scurried away when he realized just who had come up behind him. "Oh not you again—this isn't my fault!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Would you calm down? We need to unite and stop Eragon and Galbatorix from stealing the story all for themselves!"

"…why do you want _me_ to help?" Durza said. "You hate me."

"I don't have a chance on my own…Eragon, Saphira, and Brom have more clout than just me. But you—the author likes you. Readers like you. No, I have a much better chance if you join forces with me…"

Durza crossed his arms. "Why should I help? Subieko likes me—she won't take me out of the story."

Arya frowned, tapping her foot. "How about…I know—I'll teach you not to be a pansy."

"I am _not_ a pansy!" Durza said, stamping his foot. "I'll have you know I'm a terrifying monster!"

Arya made a gesture as if to whack Durza in the head, and he flinched and tripped over his feet. "Oh really?" Arya said, looking down at the fallen Shade.

"…hmph."

"You know it's a good idea—right now you're totally out of character."

"That's because I never _had_ a character," Durza said with a sigh as he got up and brushed himself off. "In the original book, I just came in and did evil things every once in a while, then left again."

"But now you're a character in our new story. Why don't you act like _that_ character?"

"I was born before I was characterized. Have some sympathy, at least…"

"Don't you want to learn how to be a villainous, terrifying warrior-monster-thingy?"

Durza nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Join me, and I'll teach you everything I know."

Durza's eyes narrowed. "You aren't a villain."

Arya shrugged. "When you're as cool as me, you can teach anything." She held out her hand expectantly.

"…fine," Durza said, shaking her hand. "You've got a deal!"

Arya grinned. "Perfect! And now for an evil laugh! Oh—do you want me to teach you how to--?"

"_Every_ villain knows how to do the evil laugh," Durza said firmly. And so the room rang with the villainous sound of "MUAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

The other characters shivered. Suddenly the next chapter seemed very, very far away…


	19. Memories Unburied

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took a while...it's actually been written for a few days now, but I've been debating about editing it and stuff. But, I've decided to just post it. Sooo...if it's not very good, I apologize. Oh, and it's a little...ummm...well, a little creepy. Nothing too horrible happens to the characters, though, so...yeah. I don't want to give away the plot, but...Arya makes it out without a scratch (figuratively speaking). So, don't be freaked out? Ehehehe...the next chapter should be up soon, it's already written--and it's about Murtagh! Well, enjoy chapter 17...and dang, the title kinda sucks.

Chapter 17: Memories Unburied

"Subieko, I'm telling you, this is trouble!" Eragon said. "Durza dragged Arya off somewhere, he's forcing her to help him in his evil plots!"

"That's not true!" Galbatorix said. "Arya dragged my minion away and is making him help _her_ with her—ugh—_good_ plots!"

Subieko rubbed her temples. "Guys…maybe you should talk to _them_ about it. I have other things to deal with, and besides, how much trouble can they cause? Now leave me alone—Murtagh doesn't like having too many people around."

Murtagh nodded, taking another bite of chocolate. Eragon and Galbatorix left, grumbling. "Subieko…I'm not in this chapter. Why am I here?"

"Because you keep wandering off and refusing to talk to me, that's why! We need to start _communicating_, Murtagh."

Murtagh shrugged. "I don't like communicating."

"Yes, I know, but I need to know more about you than that!"

"…whatever."

"C'mon, Murtagh, work with me here! What upsets you about the original story?"

Murtagh sighed. "I have no personality. I'm just a mysterious guy who murders people. Until the Varden lock me in prison—then suddenly I'm all happy and I have a thing for Nasuada. I want to have a goal of my own! I'm not some—some _sidekick_ or something!"

Subieko clapped her hands gleefully. "At last, you've said something about what you want! This is the first step, Murtagh…we're gonna be okay now."

Murtagh just rolled his eyes. "I thought Durza was your writing buddy."

"Yeah, but right now he's busy doing something with Arya. Anyway, you're a writing buddy too. So don't wander off anywhere!"

Murtagh sighed again. He missed his alone time already.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Corrin paced back and forth in the small cell, gnawing his lip. "Julian, what are we going to do? She still won't eat, she's barely awake now!"

Julian shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "She's trying to starve herself to death so we can't keep interrogating her—probably wants to be done for before the General comes back, as well."

"So what do we do!?" Corrin said, wringing his hands. "The General ordered us to keep her alive and keep our hands off her. He's not going to be happy if she's starved herself to death when he comes back!"

"Cor, you worry too much. It won't be _our_ fault. She just couldn't hold on anymore, that's all…the General can't blame us."

Corrin just gave his friend a look. General Durza could blame them very easily if he wanted; he had gotten soldiers demoted or even fired before when he felt they had failed in their duties.

"Wake up already, dammit!" Corrin said, striking Arya. She groaned, and her eyelids flickered.

"Damn, she's beautiful," Julian said. "Cor, when d'you think the General will get back?"

Cor scratched his chin. "I dunno why he left, how should I know when he'll get back? But he hasn't been gone too long—I'm sure he won't be back today, probably not the next day either. Why d'you ask?"

Julian was grinning now. "Oh…I just thought, as long as he's busy, we might as well keep the little lady…_occupied_."

"But—the General said—"

"He'll never know. She's almost bought it, if we want to get a piece of her it's now or never. Don't you want to?"

Corrin nodded slowly. "Yes…yes, but still—they say no one can fool the General!"

Julian shrugged. "Ah, that's just hearsay. You can't put too much stock in barrack room gossip."

Corrin started to grin as well. "Yeah…why not? No sense letting such a pretty face go to waste…" He bent over Arya, stroking her cheek with his hand. "Are all elves this good?"

Julian shrugged. "I've never seen too many, but that's what people say. You take her first, go on."

"You sure?" Corrin said.

Julian nodded. "Go on, you deserve it."

Corrin chuckled. "No one can say you're not a good friend, Jules."

The door shut behind Julian, and Corrin turned back to Arya's still form. "You are a pretty thing," he said softly, bending down. "The General doesn't know what he's missing…" He licked her cheek slowly. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy you."

-o-o-o-o-o-

"General—you're back!"

"However did you guess?" Durza muttered to himself, dismounting and giving his horse to the trembling messenger. "Any news to report?"

The messenger shook his head vigorously. "Oh—no, no, everything's quiet here, sir, everything's under control!"

"Any new information from the prisoner?"

The messenger swallowed hard. "Well…she's…th-that is, she's…"

Durza's eyes narrowed. "She's _what_?"

"She…hasn't been eating. Jules and Cor think she's trying to starve herself to death…they were just about to go take a look at her, in fact."

"Dammit!" Durza said, shoving the messenger aside and taking off at a run. "I knew I shouldn't have left this up to those idiots…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya stirred, groaning. She felt light-headed and weak, unable to so much as lift her head. Someone was shaking her...touching her. She felt a cold hand on her cheek, sliding down to her neck.

_No…no, let go…leave me alone…no…!_

The hands were unlacing her tunic now, and a voice was laughing eagerly. Arya wanted to scream, to shove the man away, but she couldn't move. She was helpless, she was going to be…going to be…!

Outside the cell, Julian stood guard, chuckling to himself. The occasional soldier passed by on some duty or other, but when they saw only one of the prisoner's guards outside the room and the door shut, they knew what was going on and just grinned.

"Hope he won't be too much longer," Julian said. "I don't want her to give out before I get my chance!"

"Your chance at _what_?" said a very, very cold voice behind him. Julian gave a startled yelp and spun around. Standing behind him was the General, his red eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I—I—"

"Give me the key!" Julian did so, shaking in terror. Durza shoved him aside and opened the door.

Corrin was standing over Arya, her tunic half-undone, a hungry look on his face. Julian cringed; his fellow guard was about to be in serious trouble. He would be lucky to get by with only a demotion—the General's reputation for harsh discipline was legendary.

Durza was indeed about to knock Corrin aside and demote him so far he'd be under the floor, when he saw Arya's long red hair spread out over the filthy mat she lay on. In his mind, he saw Fatima lying in the dirt again, covered in blood.

"Corrin, look out!" Julian cried. Corrin turned, but he was too slow. All he saw was a fist before he slammed into the wall. After that, he didn't see anything anymore.

Julian took one look at the General's face and fled. He had seen Durza angry before, angry enough to kill, but not like _that_. His eyes had been locked on Julian's face, but he hadn't been seeing Julian at all. Whatever the General was fighting, it wasn't in the fortress.

Durza slammed the door behind him, then knelt beside Arya.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The soldiers were whispering about him again. Not that Durza heard any of it, or that he would have cared if he had. He was used to gossip by now.

"It's not natural," Julian muttered. He was sitting with Corrin, who was still recovering from the blow he had received from the General.

"What's not?" Corrin said.

"Him! He's been sitting by her for days now, what's he playing at? The King would understand if she died, he's got no cause to go trying to heal her."

Corrin shrugged. "You think maybe he's…?"

Julian shook his head. "No, he still won't just take her! It's the damnedest thing…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Lost in fever, Arya dreamed that she was back in her home—the elven capital city, Ellesmera. She was a child again, and very ill. A gentle hand was touching her face, taking her temperature. Arya tried to open her eyes, to see who was caring for her, but her eyelids felt strangely heavy.

"…Faolin...?"

Yes—it must be Faolin, her faithful knight. He had always been by her side, ever since she was a very young child. He was a skilled warrior, but he was also a musician. Arya had always admired him for his talents; she had been infatuated with him as a little girl.

"Lie still," Faolin was saying. "You're injured."

Arya was too tired to move, anyway. "Faolin…my side, it hurts…it hurts so much…"  
"Just lie still—you'll make it worse," Faolin said. "Now, eat."

Arya felt him open her mouth and tip in some hot liquid. Arya swallowed, tasting a rich soup. Faolin gave her more, and with each mouthful, Arya felt a little stronger. "Faolin, where am I…?"

"Go to sleep," Faolin said. "You need rest."

Arya frowned. Something about Faolin's voice seemed strange, unfamiliar…but she was too tired to think about it for very long. Arya drifted off into slumber with a smile on her face. She knew she was perfectly safe; Faolin would never let her come to harm.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Who the bloody hell is Faolin, anyway?" Durza muttered, leaning back in his chair. He was sitting in Arya's cell. Again. She was still only semi-conscious, but improving rapidly. Durza assumed she was still delirious, since she kept calling him Faolin. Either that or it was some strange elvish curse.

"At least the fever's almost gone," Durza said, pressing his hand to Arya's forehead. "Once she wakes up she'll be fine…"

Durza rested his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. "Damn you," he said softly. "What the hell are you doing to me…? It's your fault I dreamed about—her. You look a little like her…" Durza smiled faintly. "But not as beautiful."

He hadn't thought of Fatima for years, and he tried to avoid thinking of Carsib when he could. Durza lived solely for revenge on their killers—the elves, who had been allied with the Varden. There was nothing and no one he cared about any more, including himself.

Except now he was sitting here in a cell in the dungeons, nursing a prisoner back to health—an elf, no less, although one too young to have been in the Varden when Carsib had been killed.

"What's wrong with me? This isn't like me, dammit!"

"Unh…Faolin?" Arya said. She tried to sit up, but Durza pushed her back.

"Don't sit up too quickly—you'll pass out."

Arya blinked several times, trying to clear the foggy haze in her mind. She looked confused for a moment, then remembered where she was. "What are you doing here?" she said, pushing herself back.

"Waiting for you to wake up," Durza said. "How do you feel?"

Arya said nothing. She was trying to figure out how much strength she had regained, how much she could afford to move around. She grimaced; not enough to fight Durza, in any case. "How do you think I feel? I'm locked in the King's prison, being _tortured_, and now I was almost—they were going to—" Arya shuddered, willing herself not to break down crying.

"They didn't, in case you were wondering," Durza said, looking away. _She really does look like Fatima…_

Arya took several deep, shuddering breaths, feeling only slightly better; the shock and fear was still too close. "What…happened to me?"

"After you tried to starve yourself to death, your two guards decided to take advantage of your…weakened state. Very foolish, princess—they wouldn't have dared to approach you while you still had your strength. They all know how much stronger an elf is than a human."

"But I'm…not ill," Arya said. She wanted to ask how the guards had been stopped from…had been stopped, but she wasn't sure Durza would answer that.

"That's because you've been fed for a few days. You _were_ ill, but you've mostly recovered."

Arya scowled. She had been hoping to die before Durza returned, in order to protect the Varden secrets that she held. She wasn't sure how much longer she could resist torture, not to mention mind probing. "What will happen to me now?"

"Now that you're awake, I can continue questioning you."

"I won't tell you anything."

"I shouldn't think so, no," Durza said softly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"…nothing," Durza said. "I'm merely agreeing that you won't give me any information."

Arya didn't believe him for a moment; his voice had sounded very strange when he said it. But not in a malicious or dangerous way…what _had_ it meant?

_Maybe I don't want to know…_

"By the way, what's this Faolin?" Durza said.

Arya was momentarily speechless. "How do you know about Faolin?"

Durza rolled his eyes. "Maybe because you kept calling me that while you were delirious? Naturally, I'm somewhat curious about it."

"That was…_you_?" Arya whispered, going pale.

"_Yes_. I just said that! So what does it mean?"

"That…couldn't have been you," Arya said to herself. "It's—it's just impossible." How could someone who had tortured her have also taken care of her when she was ill? It was totally illogical.

"Yes, it could have! Now what does it mean already?"

But Arya wasn't listening. She was still trying to grasp the idea that she had mistaken Durza for Faolin; she was torn between being shocked and being sickened. In the end, she settled on both.

Durza sighed and got up. "As you wish, princess. I'll be back to talk to you later."

Arya looked up. It was time to swallow her pride. "May I…ask a favor of you?"

Durza's eyebrows shot up. "Since when do prisoners get favors?"

"Please," Arya said softly.

"…what is it?"

"Could you…possibly…lock the door?"

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't?" Durza said. "You're a valuable prisoner—I need to keep you safe. Even if we can't get any information out of you, there's always the chance we could use you as a hostage or something."

He left, and the door shut behind him. Arya breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the soft 'snick' of the lock falling into place.

Durza returned to his quarters to put some paperwork in order, including demotion for Julian and Corrin. He was tempted to make it execution, but Durza refused to admit their actions had bothered him that much.

"Like I care what happens to her," Durza muttered, stabbing his quill pen into the paper with more force than was strictly necessary. "Like I care about_ anyone_ anymore."

That night, Durza dreamed of Carsib and his people again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Subieko, if you're not even writing about me, why do I have to sit here? I'd rather go train, or something."

"Don't you have any hobbies, Murtagh? You need a hobby."

"I was raised by a guy who trained soldiers—my combat skills _are_ my hobby!"

Subieko frowned. "What about painting? You could take up painting."

"No way!" Murtagh said.

"Baking?"

"No."

"Knitting?"

"Are you _crazy_?"  
"Erm…writing dark poetry?"

"Subieko, I'm not some kind of depresso! I just happen to be antisocial and have a dark past and be moody and—"

"Murtagh…let's face it. You're a bit of an angsty character. Well, what's something you like, anyway? Have you got a favorite flower?"

Murtagh didn't even dignify that with a response.

"Um-m-mmm…how about…carpentry? Or what about whittling? You could whittle. Tornac might have taught you something like that, right? You know, so you could…I don't know...make a new bow if you had to, or something."

Murtagh considered this. "Well…maybe. What about Eragon? You didn't make him get a hobby."

"He likes to hike and camp out and stuff."

"What about Durza?"

"He's got so many issues he doesn't have _time_ for a hobby! Anyway, he lives for revenge. He doesn't care about stuff like hobbies."

Murtagh rolled his eyes. "Whittling…well, at least it's better than knitting."


	20. Revelations

Author's Note: As promised...the Murtagh chapter! It has a good bit of Durza in it, too. This one is a little angsty, but really, it's about MURTAGH. What else would it be? (laughs). Enjoy, Murtagh fans! (I feel like most of the readers are probably Murtagh fans...)

Chapter 18: Revelations

"All right, Durza…let's get to work on the plan!"

"What plan?" Durza said, gazing idly out the window. "We don't even have something to plan _for_ yet."

"Yes, we do!" Arya said, stamping her foot. "We need a plan for how to make sure we continue to get chapters! Eragon and his cronies want to kick us out of the story…and so do Galbatorix and his minions!"

"I'm one of his minions," Durza said. "He's going to _kill_ me when he finds out I'm here…"

Arya shook her head. "Durza, you've got to act more villainous! You should be mocking Galbatorix behind his back and scheming to usurp him!"

"I don't _want_ to usurp him," Durza said. "I want to stop working for him. Do you realize how bad his employee benefits are? No healthcare, no sick leave, no vacations, no insurance…"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Durza, he's a villain. Villains aren't known for their cushy employment deals."

"You're lucky—you get to be one of the heroes. Heroes get everything—they're in the most chapters, they get the coolest items, they go on the best adventures, they have the best causes, and they always _win_!"

"You're telling me _you_ want to be a _hero_?" Arya said, laughing.

"Why not?" Durza said, glaring at her. "It's not like I'm a very successful villain—in Eragon I just came in every once in a while and did something vaguely evil, then left again. I couldn't get the egg from you, I couldn't stop Eragon from escaping, I couldn't capture him, and then he kills me! Villainy just isn't the career for me…"

"So what do you want to do?" Arya said, sitting down next to Durza.

"Hmm…what's heroism like? Do I qualify for that?"

"Well, heroes have to be brave and self-sacrificing, they need a variety of sidekicks and helpful friends, they need cool weaponry and a special power or two, they need a heroic cause, and of course they need a cool name or ancestor or something. Maybe a prophecy or two about them."

Durza blinked several times. "Er…"

"What about being a sidekick? You might qualify for that. It's not as demanding as being a hero."

"I don't want to be someone's sidekick!" Durza said. "I need my _own_ career."

"How about a mentor? Or a helpful secondary character?"

"How come _you_ get to be the main female character, anyway? Hmph."  
Arya sighed. "Actually, I hardly count as the _main_ female character. In Eragon I'm unconscious most of the time, and in Eldest I just pop in every once in a while and say something crushing to Eragon. I'm just the love interest. Who wants to be a love interest? It's terribly dull. You get rescued and the hero gives you stuff. It's like being an accessory."

They sat in silence for a while, thinking about their woes. Then Durza leapt to his feet. "I know! We should defect from the good guys _and_ the bad guys!"

"Then what would we _be_?"

Durza slumped down again. "Oh yeah…I forgot about that."

"But you may be on to something," Arya said. "I don't want to be Eragon's love interest, and you don't want to be Galbatorix's minion."

"Maybe we could swap sides?" Durza suggested. "I could try being a hero and you could try being a villain."

"Then I'd have to be Galbatorix's minion and you'd have to be Eragon's love interest," Arya said. "I don't think that would go over well with the others."

"So what should we do?"

A mischievous smile spread over Arya's face. "Here's the plan…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Murtagh huddled in an alcove in the deserted corridor. He had made it into the base, thanks to a hood that mostly concealed his face and the identification papers he had stolen along with his uniform. Now he was just wandering in search of Durza. The fortress was complex, and Murtagh knew nothing about the layout.

"Great…now I'm lost," he muttered. "I've got to either find Durza or get out of here soon—people will start getting suspicious…"

Slipping out into the corridor, Murtagh started looking for another soldier. He found one soon enough. Pulling his hood down further, he coughed loudly to get the man's attention.

"Hey there, my friend—I've got a message for General Durza. Any idea where is?"

The man shook his head, smiling. "You've got my sympathy, mate. I'd hate to be in your shoes! I think he's down in the dungeons, working on a prisoner…"

Murtagh nodded his thanks and hurried off. He didn't have any idea where the dungeons were, of course, but hopefully he could find them if he just went to the lowest level of the fortress.

It took him a while to find a staircase, but Murtagh knew how to act calm and collected, as if he knew exactly where he was going, so no one stopped him. Down, down he went, into the bowels of the fortress. It was dim and dank down there, the stone walls rough and unfinished.

"General Durza?" Murtagh called softly. Something about the dungeons made him want to keep quiet. There was no response but a faint echo. "General Durza?" he called, more loudly this time.

Then Murtagh felt a cold hand on his shoulder. "So there you are," Durza said. "To think I spent all that time off looking for you, when you were right here…"

Murtagh quickly spun and stepped back, drawing his sword. "I came here to find you, Durza—I want answers!"

Durza sighed. "You intend to fight me? How tedious…you know I'll win. A human can't match a Shade for strength."

"Care to find out for yourself?" Murtagh said, moving into a fighting stance.

Durza shrugged. "I suppose if you really want to…" Then, before Murtagh could even react, Durza had drawn his sword and leapt forward. Murtagh fell to the ground, biting back a cry of pain. His sword arm hung limply at his side.

Durza pulled out a soft cloth and began wiping the blood off his sword. It always got stuck in the long scratch that ran the length of the blade, much to Durza's irritation. "So much for your fight." Sheathing the sword, Durza pulled Murtagh to his feet by his good arm. "The King will be pleased."

"No—Durza, you have to answer me!" Murtagh cried, struggling with all his might. But the Shade's grip was unrelenting, and Murtagh found himself thrown into a small cell. "Durza, you have to tell me this—you owe me that much!"

Durza turned back. "Owe you? Why would I owe you anything?"

"Maybe you don't owe anything to me, but please—for my mother's sake. You owe it to her, at least."

Durza's eyes narrowed. "I owe your mother nothing."

Murtagh scowled, his fists clenched. "Nothing? How can you say that!? She was the one who convinced the Forsworn to accept you—they wanted the King to throw you out of the army. You would never have gotten this far without her. She trusted you—she _helped_ you!"

"I didn't ask for her help. What she did, she chose to do."

"Answer me, dammit—what happened to her? You were the last one who saw her before she left—she liked you, she would have told you!"

Durza looked at Murtagh coldly. "She told no one where she was going."

"Y—you're lying!" Murtagh said. "My mother…she would never have just…abandoned me."

Durza closed his eyes. He was tempted to tell Murtagh that his mother had run off somewhere without giving a damn about him. But…he did owe something to Lady Selena, or at least to her memory. He could still see that day in his mind…the day she returned.

_The ground was soft from the rain, easy to dig into. The pit was shallow and muddy, but it would serve. Durza stood by as another soldier climbed out of the hole and laid his shovel aside._

_"It's done," he said. "Come on, let's get this over with." He didn't look at Durza while he said it—the Shade frightened him._

_"You call that done?" Durza said. "When the ground dries out, it'll swell…you won't want to see that, believe me."_

_"You want it deeper, you dig it," the man muttered. "I'm done, you can finish this by yourself." He stomped off through the sheets of rain._

_Durza picked up the fallen shovel and climbed back into the hole. The cold meant nothing to him, nor did the blisters on his hands. He dug until the pit was deeper, with a flat, smooth bottom. Levering himself out, he knelt beside the white shroud, now stained with mud._

_"I suppose no one will ever know where you went now," he said softly, drawing back the sheet. Lady Selena's dead pace stared up at him, unseeing. Her face was still stained with blood; they hadn't even bothered to cover the horrible dent in her skull._

_"Goodbye, Lady Selena," Durza said, dragging the body to edge of the hole and dumping it in. He began to shovel the earth on top of it, filling it in until there was nothing but a rough patch of ground. The rain would soon smooth that away, and there would be no evidence that Lady Selena was rotting down below._

_"Poor thing," said a voice behind him. Durza turned and saw Tornac standing there, his face streak with rain and tears. "Poor thing," he said again. "She was so young, too…and what am I going to tell Murtagh?"_

_Durza turned back to the unmarked grave. He blinked hard—the rain must be getting in his eyes, because the whole scene was growing blurry. "Lady Selena never returned."_

_"Of course she did, you just buried her!"_

_"No, Tornac. This isn't Lady Selena's grave, and that wasn't her body. Lady Selena is missing, and soon she'll be declared legally dead."_

_"You don't mean…"_

_"You really think they'd let word of this get out?" Durza said, scowling. "Anyone who knows will either keep their mouths shut or be silenced. As far as you and I are concerned, Lady Selena never came home, and Murtagh isn't an orphan."_

_"But I've got to tell him the truth," Tornac said. "He deserves to know."_

_"He's a child," Durza said flatly. "Do you really want to do that to him?"_

_Tornac sighed. "Poor thing…"_

"…your mother is dead," Durza said at last.

"No—you're saying that to hurt me, make me weak," Murtagh said, his eyes blazing. "You think you can break me? It would take more than King Galbatorix to do that!"

"She was only away for a few weeks," Durza said, continuing as though he hadn't been interrupted at all. "She came back, but her husband was…angry. He must have found out where she was going—maybe she was meeting a lover."

"Never," Murtagh said. "My mother was always faithful…even though that bastard didn't deserve it."

"She was an idiot," Durza said, gritting his teeth. "He struck her in the head with something and cracked her skull open. I buried her myself, but her death was never officially declared. Happy now?"

As Durza stalked off with his hands thrust into his pockets, Murtagh shouted after him, a mixture of curses and pleas for more information. But Durza never so much as glanced back. At last Murtagh slumped to the floor, his throat hoarse.

"…she can't be dead," Murtagh whispered. But even as he said it, he knew Durza had told him the truth. Murtagh had always felt, deep down, that his mother was probably dead. She had been missing for so long, and she had always had a weak constitution.

"And now I can't even avenge her. Damn you…damn you, you bastard!" Murtagh said. His father had been killed by the Varden years ago.

_What do I do now? I came here to find mom, or at least avenge her, but now…I can't do either. So…what's left for me?_

"...this is all Galbatorix's fault. If he had never found my father—convinced him to join the Empire—mom would still be alive…" Murtagh's fist clenched. "He…he deserves to die. I'll kill him—that will avenge mom."

Murtagh had always wanted to find his mother, even when he was a child. He had told Tornac about it plenty of times.

_"When will I be big enough to ride a horse, Tornac?"  
Tornac laughed. "Not yet! We'll get you a pony soon, if you're good."_

_Murtagh stuck out his lower lip. "I want to ride a horse and have a sword, like you!"_

_Tornac knelt beside Murtagh, ruffling his hair. "What are you in such a hurry to grow up for?"_

_"So I can find Mama! I'll go rescue her!"_

_"Rescue her? From what?" Tornac asked, his smile flickering. It was hard to hear Murtagh talk about his mother as if she was still alive._

_"If Mama was free, she would have come back to get me," Murtagh said firmly. "She must be captured somewhere. So I'll find her and save her, and then we'll come find you, and we can all stay together!"_

_Tornac hugged Murtagh tightly. "Murt…you can't just—live for that. I know it sounds strange right now, but someday, when you're older…you'll understand. You've got to _love_ something. You've got to have something you love. You can't just live for someone else, or to do one thing. What's going to happen to you when you've done it, huh?"_

_Murtagh frowned. "But I don't know what else I want to do. What do you do, Tornac?"_

_"Me? Well, I teach the soldiers…and I take care of my little girl and my wife. And I'm in charge of the King's horses—I breed them, raise them, train them. And…" He glanced around, then whispered to Murtagh, "I sketch. But that's a secret, so don't tell anyone, okay?"_

_Murtagh giggled. "Okay! But what do you sketch?"_

_"Landscapes…when I was a soldier in the field, I used to see all kinds of beautiful things—mountains and lakes, the desert, the tallest trees you can imagine! I always wanted to copy them down, somehow…so I taught myself, once I settled down."_

_"Wow!" Murtagh said, his eyes wide. "Someday, I want to see those things!"_

_"You will," Tornac said, smiling. "Someday you'll find your way out there…you'll find the thing that makes you happy. When you do, hold onto it!"_

_Murtagh nodded. "Right!"_

Murtagh smiled at the memory. "Tornac…what would you say if you could see me right now? Would you be disappointed in me…?"

_…he would be_, Murtagh realized. _But I can't find the life he wanted for me yet._

"Mom, I…I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I couldn't save you, mom, but…I'll save someone. I won't let the King do this to anyone else…!"

Murtagh's smile was steely now, and his eyes were full of fire. This was how he would avenge his mother's death—this was how he would find his purpose.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Durza stood before the large mirror on the wall of the audience chamber. It was a two-way scrying portal, and he was contacting King Galbatorix. The King would be most pleased to hear of Murtagh's capture.

Personally, Durza didn't give a damn. If fulfilling the King's wishes brought Durza closer to his goal, then so be it. That was all that mattered to him.

The King appeared in the mirror, pacing the audience chamber back at the palace in Uru'baen. Noticing the magic activate, he turned to face Durza.

"Ah…Durza. What news do you have for me?"

"The prisoner has given no new information. Murtagh has been captured," Durza said simply. He then stood silently at attention, waiting for orders.

"Excellent!" the King cried, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Excellent, Durza! I knew you wouldn't fail me. Ah…I knew it from the very start, I knew you would be a valuable addition to my forces."

"…thank you, sir?" Durza said, raising his eyebrows. The King seemed to be off in a world of his own.

"You needn't thank me, Durza, you needn't thank me…you've more than repaid any debt you owed me. Very good soldier—very good General. It worked out well, in the end, the raid. And to think that I admonished Morzan at the time…but his failure turned into quite a triumph. I doubt any of those sorcerers would have joined me, anyway…terribly clannish."

"I beg your pardon, my Lord?" Durza said slowly, with a strange sinking feeling. The King's words had rung a bell somewhere in his mind, a bell buried under decades of anger and forced forgetting.

"The raid, my General, the raid on the sorcerer's encampment where you were…I suppose born is the word, or perhaps embodied. I sent Morzan to recruit them, but they refused. But they were powerful—it is never wise to leave a magician out of one's calculations, and a large group of sorcerers is even worse. So I sent Morzan to exterminate them. I had thought it a total loss…until we discovered _you_ some years later. Only think how pleased I was when Selena brought you to my attention—she convinced Morzan not to execute you, you know. He was rather prejudiced against magic, I'm afraid…you know how he hated to use even his own powers. A somewhat demented man, but useful all the same. Very loyal."

Durza remained silent, frozen. In his mind, he saw again, in painfully sharp clarity, Carsib and Fatima lying in the sand, the life slipping from their bodies. And in the sky…a dragon.

The King was still speaking, not noticing the look on Durza's face. "Keep Murtagh under guard in Gil'ead for now—I shall send someone to collect him later. An excellent job, General Durza, an excellent job…contact me if anything else of importance occurs."

The mirror went dark, and Durza was left staring at his own ghostly reflection.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Durza—what the hell are you doing!? You're supposed to be my loyal minion, get over here and do your job!" Galbatorix said, stamping his foot with a fierce clang of armor.

"No!" Durza cried. "Arya says a real villain must not cower or be subservient—that's for secondary villains doomed to die horrible deaths!"

"But that's what you _are_! And why are you taking advice on being evil from one of the _good guys_!?"

Durza threw him a vile glare, then hefted his sign and turned away. The Ra'zac stared after him, scratching their hideous, deformed heads.

"Boss…why's he carrying that sign?"

"Yeah—and what are these 'minions' rights'?"

Galbatorix scowled. "Just ignore him—he's crazy."

"Strike! For minions' rights! Strike! For villains' rights!" Durza cried, marching about and waving his home-made poster-on-a-stick. It was not, perhaps, quite as dignified as a real protest march with a proper sign, but it wasn't like any of the characters knew that.

"Arya, where hadst thou gone? I was consumed by constant worry that Galbatorix's henchmen had captured you! I could neither sleep nor eat! My heart was filled with trepidation and tribulation! The depths of the King's villainy cannot be expressed by mere mortal language!"

The other protagonists stared at Eragon. "Eragon…why are you talking like that?" Brom said.

"That's the way a good hero talks," Eragon said. "Just check out my dialogue in Eragon—see?"

_This dialogue sucks,_ Saphira said. _Why can't you just talk like a normal person?_

Eragon threw down the book and crossed his arms over his chest. "No! I wanna be a real fantasy hero, and real fantasy heroes have to talk like that!"

"Eragon, you're an idiot," Arya said. "Now get out of my way—I'm busy protesting."

Brom examined Arya's sign, scratching his head. "Arya, why are you carrying a sign that says 'strike for love interests' rights'?"

"Because, Brom…my position as the official love interest for the hero is totally unjust. Durza and I have discussed this matter, and—"

"You went to _Durza_ for help!?" Eragon said. "But you're my love interest—I should be the one helping you!"

"Did you even notice the sign!? I refuse to be a love interest any longer! From now on, I'm the female main character!"

Eragon clutched his head in agony. "But—but—NO! What will I do without a love interest? All fantasy heroes need a love interest to rescue, and princesses are the best for that!"

There was a loud thump as Eragon hit the floor after being broad-sided with Arya's sign. The elf then marched on, totally ignoring Eragon's pitiful sniffles.

Murtagh frowned, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Subieko…"

"Yes, Murtagh?" Subieko said absently, typing away at her keyboard.

"I really think you should come take a look at this. It's…"

"It's what?"  
"…I'm not even sure how to describe it. Everyone is acting very strangely…and very out-of-character."

Subieko rolled her eyes. "They're _not_ out of character, Murtagh—their characters just developed. People aren't just static, you know, they change with experiences and time and all!"

Murtagh shrugged. "Maybe. But this is something a little…different."

"Fine, I'll take a look…"

Getting up, Subieko and Murtagh went into the room next door, where the other characters were gathered. Subieko gazed at Durza picketing Galbatorix and his henchmen, Arya whacking Eragon and his friends while complaining loudly, and everyone else looking stunned, furious, or both.

"Everything looks normal to me," Subieko said. "C'mon, let's get to work on the next chapter."


	21. The Breaking Point

Author's Note: This chapter was...tricky. I'm still not sure if it turned out QUITE how I wanted...but I wanted to post it so I could start writing the next chapter, which has Eragon. It's about time our poor main character got some face time...(laughs) Anyway...hope you like the chapter, and none of the characters seem...er...too out-of-character (Durza, I'm talking to you! (sweatdrop)). And I have no idea why Durza uses British curses. It just...sounded right, for some reason. And since no distinctly Alagaesian curses are really given in Eragon or Eldest, I've decided to just go with some modern curses. Let's assume they're translations...(sheepish laugh)

Chapter 19: The Breaking Point

Galbatorix and Eragon faced each other in the middle of the room, their eyes narrowed, their hands on their weapons. Behind them, their respective cohorts held their breaths. The tension could have been cut with Zar'roc, if anyone could have actually lifted the thing.

"So," Galbatorix said.

"So," Eragon said. But then Eragon, who was much more impulsive than Galbatorix and had poor decision making skills to boot, dove right in. "Galbatorix, we've got to something about Durza and Arya!"

"We?" the King said.

"Look, I hate you and you hate me," Eragon said. "But if we want to deal with this…we've got to join forces—just for now."

"Hmmm…you may have a point—those two have gotten totally unmanageable. Arya is corrupting Durza!"

"No, Durza is corrupting Arya!"

There was a moment of silence while the two glared at each other. Then Eragon sighed. "So what do we do?"

"…we've got to split them up," Galbatorix said. "There's just no other way. Here's the plan…"

Meanwhile, Arya and Durza were sitting in a different room. "Arya, why does this house have so many random, similar rooms?"  
Arya shrugged. "Plot device. Anyway, we have other things to worry about. I don't know how successful we were…"

"_I_ certainly wasn't successful. But Galbatorix never listens to anyone—why would he listen to me? I'm just a lowly minion…"

"You know, Durza, we might get more done if you had an ounce of self-esteem! Stop whining already!"

"_You_ try being a minion," Durza muttered. "It's not a great job for building self-esteem. Anyway, you could stand to get some humility!"

Arya drew herself up, tossing her hair. "I'm an elf maiden, practically immortal, a great warrior, a powerful magician, and the most beautiful character in the entire story. Why should I have humility?"

"Because you have an annoying personality?"

"Oh, shut up. Anyway, what should we do now?"

Durza pondered this for a while. "…we could just go hang out with Subieko and Murtagh."

"No!" Arya said. "We have to show Galbatorix and Eragon that we won't be pushed around any longer!"

"Arya, _you_ push _Eragon_ around."

"Yeah, but only because I'm stuck being his love interest. Anyway we have to change this injustice."

"We should form out own side. Not the good guys, not the bad guys, the…the…"

"There isn't anything else—that's just the problem!"  
"…the random guys."  
"The random guys?"

"Yeah," Durza said, getting to his feet. "Yeah, the random guys! We do whatever we feel like—sometimes we're bad guys, sometimes good guys, sometimes we just hang around causing trouble for everyone!"

"Hmm…you may have something there! Come on—we need to make campaign posters."

"What for?"

"To convince people to join the random guys, of course!"  
And the two ran off to find some markers and glitter pens.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"It was him," Durza whispered, staring unseeing at the blank mirror. "It was him…!"

Galbatorix had ordered the destruction of the sorcerers' camp—Galbatorix had caused Carsib's death. Nearly eighty years of seeking vengeance on the elves, and the real enemy had been right in front of him all along.

"General? General, what was the King's message? Any new orders?"

Durza turned, blinking. The voice seemed to come from far away, as if Durza was lost under deep water. It was some Lieutenant or other.

"…no new orders."

The man nodded and left. Durza turned to go as well, not really knowing where he was trying to go. Where _was_ there to go anymore?

"He killed Carsib," Durza whispered. "He killed Carsib…I'll kill him!"

His steps quickened. In Durza's mind, a plan was beginning to take shape.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A new soldier was on duty outside of Arya's interrogation room. His name was Lars, and he was extremely puzzled. Lars had only recently been assigned to Gil'ead, and he knew almost nothing about General Durza, except of course that he was a terrifying monster.

When he heard that he would guarding a prisoner being tortured by the General himself, Lars had been terrified. He didn't want to see the sickening, gruesome things the General would be willing to do for information. Lars had imagined all sorts of horrible fates the victim might face: being dipped in boiling oil, the crushing of the fingers and toes, twisting sticks in the hair until it pulled out by the roots, being forced to swallow glass. It made Lars want to retch.

But to his surprise, the General was using a very different torture technique. Lars had heard that Durza had tried some more typical tortures—whipping, pulling out the fingernails, giving numerous small cuts and dipping them in salt water—but the elf had been too resistant. So now he was trying what was apparently the most horrible thing he could think of that would actually leave Arya alive.

"I don't understand it," Lars muttered. "What's so bad about leaving someone in a room by herself for a while?"

Lars was lucky Durza wasn't around to hear that. He probably would have demoted the poor man at once for stupidity.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya lay on her back in the cell. There was a soft mat underneath her, and her hands were unbound. She was in no pain; she felt nothing at all. There was a black hood tied over her head, but loosely, with plenty of room to breath. A cloth was wrapped around her ears, drowning out all sound. The room was dark and still and silent.

The room was closing in, choking her; the room extended forever, and she was lost in a black void. She was the only person in the world; she did not exist at all.

Arya had no knowledge of how long it had been. Perhaps an hour? Or had it only been a few minutes? Or…perhaps she had always been here. Maybe there was no outside world—maybe she had only dreamed the sun on her face, the wind in her hair, the taste of cool water on her tongue. She was utterly disembodied, too exhausted even to think or try to remember anything.

Arya was lost.

The door swung open, although Arya had no way of knowing. The room's design was very clever—out in the corridor, one first entered a door that led to a small, darkened hall, then went through a second door into the room. All light was kept out, and the door's hinges were always well-oiled, making them totally silent.

In the midst of the emptiness, Arya suddenly felt someone untying the cloth around her ears. A hand touched her shoulder. It was warm, living, something real and solid in the darkness. She reached out and grasped the hand, sobbing.

"Can you stand?"

She couldn't. Arya felt limp and weak, as if she were a wisp of cloud that might blow away any moment. The person, whoever they were, lifted her to her feet, supporting her. Arya took a hesitant step, then another, still hanging on to the stranger.

"Come this way," the stranger said, gently leading her forward. They went through the first door and the second, although Arya didn't know that—she was still wearing her hood. On and on they walked, for what seemed like an eternity to Arya. The journey was painfully slow, but step by step, Arya pressed forward. There was air on her face, cold stone floors beneath her feet—she was alive again.

Then Arya heard a door shut behind her, and the stranger pushed her onto a soft surface. She sat there, taking deep breaths, gently touching her face, her arms, making sure that she really was herself.

"Are you in any pain? Can you speak?"

Arya opened her mouth, then closed it again. She took another breath. "I'm…fine. Who are you?"

"Sit still for a moment," the stranger said. Arya felt him untie the hood, and it slipped from her face. She blinked in the sudden brightness, blinded, although the room was only lit by a single oil lantern.

Once her eyesight had adjusted, Arya looked up, meaning to thank her rescuer. But then she saw his face, and choked. "_Durza_…?"

Durza didn't reply. He sat down at a nearby desk that was covered in paperwork. For a moment neither of them moved. Then, with a choked scream, Durza shoved all of the papers off his desk and collapsed onto it, burying his face in his crossed arms.

Arya continued to sit and stare at him. It occurred to her that she might be able to escape. Durza was still carrying his sword, after all, and he wasn't really paying attention to her right now. In fact, she might even be able to kill the Shade and rid the Varden of a dangerous enemy. He had killed hundreds of her people, and he had tortured her. Durza was a dangerous, possibly psychotic, unrepentant servant of Galbatorix.

_He'd deserve it_, Arya thought. _He would _definitely_ deserve it. It would be self-defense. I may never get another chance._

She got up and walked, as quiet as only an elf could be, to stand just behind Durza. Arya was quite talented with the sword—she just had to grab the hilt and draw it, and she would be home free.

"Go ahead," Durza said softly, without looking up. "I'd deserve it, you know."

Arya froze. This was her chance—she should do it, but…

_Is he _crying!?

"Really," Durza said. "Go ahead. I won't stop you."

_It doesn't matter_, Arya told herself firmly. _I don't give a damn what's the matter with him—whatever it is, it doesn't justify what he's done. He's still evil._ Arya looked down at him. _But he's crying,_ a small, traitorous voice inside her said.

As a child, Arya's parents had been very proud of their daughter's unwavering compassion for any and all injured animals she found in the woods of Du Weldenvarden. She had brought home deer with lame legs, rabbits with injured paws, nightingales with damaged wings, and demanded that someone help her heal them. This was considered exemplary behavior among the elves.

Arya's parents were less pleased, however, when she also brought homes snakes, rats, and worms. Arya still had a scar on her arm from where a large fishing hawk had slashed her with his talon when she tied a splint to his leg.

She had healed the hawk anyway, and released him back to his home on the lake.

_What is _wrong_ with me!?_ Arya thought, silently berating herself as she reached out a hand and gently laid it on Durza's shoulder.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?" Durza said, shoving her back.

_I was just thinking the same thing_. "I was just trying to—"

"I'm going to die anyway, what difference does it make whether you kill me or he does?"

"Or who does?" Arya asked, feeling more and more that all reason had gone out of the world.

"Galbatorix."

"Why would he kill you?"

"Because I have to kill him."

Arya was momentarily silenced by complete surprise. "You—_what_?" she said weakly. "Could you really…?"

"No," Durza said softly.

"Then why would you try to—"

"Because I have to! Because I should have been the one who died—it should have been me, not him, I…I—"

At that moment, Arya knew she had gone completely, irretrievably insane. In front of her eyes, Durza, Galbatorix's general, a terrifying, pitiless monster, burst into tears.

_What am I supposed to do?_ No where in all of Arya's training, both with the Varden and with the elves, was there anything to prepare her for a situation like this. She could just picture herself asking Faolin—he had taught her sword fighting—what to do. _Faolin, if my sworn enemy starts sobbing uncontrollably and I have no idea why, should I ask him what's wrong or just kill him?_

She knew exactly what the answer would be, too. No elf in their right mind would leave a perversion of nature like a Shade alive.

_Faolin was right…I really am an idiot sometimes_, Arya thought. She stood there, feeling more awkward than she had ever thought possible, until Durza had calmed down enough to speak. "Um…General…" Arya stopped. Somehow, 'what's wrong' seemed like a very, very inappropriate thing to say. "Why do you want to kill Galbatorix?"

"…for the same reason I wanted to kill you," Durza said in a flat, dead voice.

"But you'll die if you try to fight him."

"If I die, they'll be able to rest in peace."

Arya decided not to ask who 'they' were; there was no need to make this conversation any stranger than it already was. Arya suddenly felt a flare of anger. Weeks of being locked in a cell, all of the pain she had suffered, a lifetime of oppression under Galbatorix's reign, all burst out. "Do you have any idea how _selfish_ that is!? You die—not harming Galbatorix _at all_—and where does that leave the rest of us? How does that help _anyone_!? What kind of people would want you to just die for nothing at all!?"

Durza slowly turned to look at her, and Arya resisted the urge to step back. It occurred to her that red eyes were very unnerving when they were staring at you like that.

But Durza said nothing. He was thinking about Carsib. Galbatorix had to pay for killing him. But Durza had no way to harm the King, as much as he hated to admit it.

The elf was saying something. Durza listened to her, but without much interest. "Come with me. You're the King's General, you know his plans, everything about his army, how he works—you would be invaluable to the Varden."  
"They would kill me on sight," Durza said flatly.

Arya bit her lip—he was right. There was no way she could convince the Varden that Durza wasn't a dangerous enemy—she wasn't sure she could convince herself. But then she remembered her dream. The Ra'zac had been chasing that boy, the boy with the dragon. They were expert trackers, and there was no way the boy would be able to escape them if they found his trail. If she could stop the Ra'zac long enough for the boy to reach the safety of the Varden…

"Do you know where the Ra'zac were sent?"

"…what?"  
"The Ra'zac," Arya said impatiently. "You could take me to them—help me kill them."

"Why would I do that?" Durza said.

"Because…" Arya glanced around, then leaned closer to the Shade. "Because they're chasing a dragon rider," she whispered. "He's our only hope of defeating the King, and we're the only ones who know that he exists…or that he's danger."

"A drag—"

Arya clapped a hand over Durza's mouth. "Shh! The King may not know that the egg hatched," she whispered. "And yes. The egg we stole has hatched for someone…and he has to be protected, at all costs."

Durza's eyes narrowed as he shoved her hand away. If the egg had really hatched…if there really was a dragon rider…

_The King's worst fear_, Durza thought. _He destroyed the dragon riders because they were the only thing that could possibly be a threat to him. If he found out that one had returned…_

Durza got to his feet. "…all right. I'll help you—for now."

Arya smiled in a way that would have made Galbatorix himself shudder. "So what's the plan?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Murtagh sighed for the fifth time in ten minutes. "Subieko…the next chapter isn't about me either. All I've done so far is get locked in prison—what happened to me getting a bigger part!?"

"You _will_, Murtagh, you _will_…soon. But now we need to focus on Eragon for a while. He _is_ the main character, after all. Well, one of the main characters anyway. And he still has to start learning magic!"

"I thought he and Brom were going to Gil'ead."

"They are," Subieko said. "But do you honestly think that's going to stop Brom from teaching Eragon?"

"…point taken."

At that moment, the door burst open. "Subieko, guess what!?" Durza said. "Me and Arya have formed our own side, and we have _signs_!"  
"That's nice," Subieko said. "What's it called?"

"The random guys," Arya said, following Durza in. "And we think you should join, Murtagh. You aren't a good guy or a bad guy, and none of them appreciate you anyway."

"I don't want to join anyone," Murtagh said, glaring at them. "I trust no one but myself!"

"And your dr—" Durza started to say.  
"Shhh!" Subieko said. "No spoilers!"

"Oh, right," Durza said. "Anyway, Murtagh, you've _got_ to join! Please?"  
Murtagh continued to glare.

"But we have chocolate!" Durza said.

"Long live the random guys!" Murtagh said, springing to his feet and grabbing a sign. The three marched out of the room, waving the random guy flag.

"While you're up, would you guys get Eragon, Brom, and Saphira for me?" Subieko called after them.

"Sure thing!" Durza yelled back. "Hey, Arya, Murtagh? We should get a random guy theme song."

Subieko shook her head as their bickering faded into the distance. "I can't wait to see what Galby and Eragon are going to do when they see that…"


	22. Voices

Author's Note: Ack, this chapter took longer than I thought it would...Eragon is becoming hard to write for. But here he, Brom, and Saphira are again! The next chapter will also feature Eragon and his cohorts...and possibly the one after that, but I'm not sure how that will work yet. Anyway, enjoy the further adventures of Eragon and his band of...well...occasionally merry people. (laughs) Oh--and the 'secret signals' in the pre-chapter part are a joke on this thing I saw in a movie about Napoleon...his code message was: the first guy would say 'the eagle flies at midnight' and if the other guy was also part of the conspiracy, he would reply 'unto the twin towers of Notre Dame.' Just a random joke.

Chapter 20: Voices

"Muhahaha…MUHAHAHA—hack! Hack!"

"Are you okay, Boss?" a random Urgal said, frowning.

Galbatorix sidled away from the ill-smelling creature, scowling. "Yes, yes…just a little dust got in my throat during my Evil Laugh ™."

"Oh," the Urgal said, wondering what TM meant.

"Shh—here she comessss!" one of the Ra'zac hissed. He—she—it?—was standing up ahead in the hallway, hiding behind the clothes hamper. It was so large that the hamper really only covered up to its armpits, but the hallway was dark.

Arya stepped forward into the hall, heading for the closet to get some more markers and crayons. Galbatorix, grinning a Fiendish Grin ™, gave the secret signal: "The cuckoo flies at midnight!" he shouted.

The three Urgals Galbatorix had been able to muster up sprang forward, trying to catch Arya in a net. Unfortunately for them, Arya's elven reflexes allowed her to easily dodge out of the way, and they became hopelessly entangled.

"This is the last time I hire discount minions," Galbatorix said, striding forward with a spare net. "Time for plan B!"

Arya reached down to draw her sword, but both of the Ra'zac sprang forward and tackled her to the ground. Galbatorix quickly tied Arya up with some twine he had found in Subieko's garage, and ordered his minions to carry her back to his Villainous Lair ™.

Meanwhile, Durza was searching for tape and glue in the basement. "Why do _I_ have to search the basement? The closet is much smaller! And this place is a hazard!"

"Too right," muttered Eragon, crouching behind a stack of precariously balanced boxes. Saphira gave him a mental shush; she was disguised as an overstuffed couch.

"Glue…glue…if we have tape, why do we even _need_ glue?"

"Unto the twin towers of Uru'baen!" Eragon shouted. At that secret signal, he and Saphira leapt out and tackled Durza.

"What did I ever do to deserve this!?" the Shade cried miserably as he was tied up and dragged off the Heroes' Stronghold ™.

"You murdered my Uncle, you helped destroy all the dragons in Alagaesia, you gave me a hideous, disfiguring wound—ruining my good looks, I might add—and you tortured my girlfriend! And worst of all…"

Eragon took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. A hero did not resort to villainy, even in the face of such heinous evil as Durza. "_You corrupted Arya!_"

"I _what_!?" Durza said. But his protests were completely ignored, as usual.

"Hey, Brom?"

"Er…yes, Subieko?" Brom said, fidgeting. Eragon had sworn him to secrecy about Operation: Save Arya (Galbatorix had wanted to name it Operation: Reclaim Durza, but Eragon insisted on renaming it).

"It's gone awfully quiet, don't you think?"  
"No—of course not!" Brom said, wiping his sweaty palms on his cloak. "Everyone is probably…umm…taking a nap. Yeah, that's it—they're taking an afternoon nap!" Brom mentally cursed himself for an idiot—no one took naps anymore.

Subieko nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right…afternoon naps are the best, don't you think? Too bad we've got to finish up the chapter. You know, you'd think Eragon and Saphira could've at least stayed around to help us with it!"

"Right…too bad," Brom said, breathing a very soft sigh of relief.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Brom, can't we go just a little farther tonight?"

"No!" Brom said, unsaddling his horse. "The horses need rest, Eragon, and so do we. We won't help anyone if we get to Gil'ead exhausted and totally unprepared!"

"But we're just sitting here," Eragon said. "She's in pain, she could be dying for all we know, and we're just _sitting_ here!"

Brom sighed, rubbing his brow. "Eragon…I know you're worried about her, but we can't get there faster just because you want us to. Go practice your magic, or something."

"I still don't know how to _do_ any magic," Eragon said.

Brom pulled out his pipe, a sure sign that he was getting irritated. "Because you don't know what it _is_, what it means! Go listen." When Eragon just stood staring at him blankly, Brom rolled his eyes. "Go listen, go look! If you want to use magic on something, you have to know what it _is_ first. Go look at something until you know what it _is_. Go on!"  
Eragon knew better than to argue. Lifting Saphira onto his shoulder, he wandered off a short way out of the little clearing they had chosen as a camp site. "It would help if he ever explained what he was talking about," Eragon told Saphira.

Saphira nodded, a gesture she had picked up from Eragon. _Stupid old man. What are you doing now?_

"Looking, I guess," Eragon said. Finding a soft patch of moss at the base of an old oak tree, Eragon settled down and leaned back, gazing up at the branches. "Even though I still don't know what I'm supposed to be looking _for_…"

_Look at everything_, Saphira suggested.

Eragon smiled, stroking her head. "I guess we'll have to."

The two sat looking out into the forest. It was a cool night, although there was no snow on the ground now that they were far from the mountains. Stars were just starting to come out; Eragon could see pinpricks of light through the branches of the trees.

"There aren't even any clouds tonight," he whispered.

_Shh!_ Saphira said. Eragon didn't have to ask why—he too felt that the stillness shouldn't be broken.

Eragon's hand dropped to his side. The moss was soft, almost like a thick fur blanket. Saphira, growing bored, hopped down and began digging in the moss. Eragon could smell wet earth from where she pulled up a patch. It was a _thick_ smell, somehow, a rich smell that Eragon felt was alive, although he couldn't say quite why.

Leaving Saphira to play in the moss, Eragon ran a hand over the ground on his other side. His fingers brushed against the smooth, cold face of a large boulder. Eragon got up and knelt before it, examining it. _It might be older than I am!_ he thought, seeing how worn it was. Moss was growing in small hollows and cracks all over it. It was gray in the twilight, but Eragon could see hints of other colors here and there.

"I never really noticed rocks that much before," Eragon said softly, still running his hands over the large stone. "I just moved them out of the fields, or stepped over them on the trail…I don't think I ever just _looked_ at them."

(Typical,) said a low, rough voice, ponderous and very, very old. (Now let go of me, would you? I'm not as sturdy as I used to be…)

Eragon sprang back, looking around wildly. "Who's there—who said that!?"

(I'm right here,) the voice said again. (You were just looking at me…typical. So typical. The young have no patience these days…)

Eragon tried to concentrate on the voice and figure out where it was coming from. There was something very strange about it—although Eragon felt like he was hearing it just like any other voice, it also felt like it wasn't a voice at all. It sounded like the cracking of stone, like the grumbling of boulders rubbing over each other, like long, slow years of crumbling…

Saphira nudged him. _What's wrong?_

"I…I'm not sure," Eragon said, picking Saphira up and hugging her tightly, as much for his own comfort as hers. "I thought I heard this—this voice, but it wasn't a _voice_, it was…"

(It was me. You seemed so curious, I thought I'd say hello…)

Eragon jumped, and Saphira squawked, wriggling free of his arms and hopping down onto the stone. _Talking! The rock is talking!_

"But—rocks don't talk!"

(You're awfully excitable…but you're very young, too.)

"You…did talk, didn't you? I was just standing here, and then you…"

(You were looking at me. It only seemed polite to introduce myself.)

"Uh…r-right. It's…um…it's very nice to meet you, sir—ma'am?"

(It doesn't matter much,) the rock said in a kindly voice that reminded Eragon of somebody's grandfather. (Why don't you run along now…an old fogey like me can't be much interest to a youth…)

"No, no!" Eragon said, sitting back down next to the rock. "I, um, I'm very interested in anything you'd like to tell me. How did you get here?"

Eragon had a strange feeling that the rock was _looking_ at him, sizing him up. (Hmmm…interesting. Very interesting. Don't meet too many people like you these days. Very interesting…)

"What's interesting?"

(Don't be hasty, now,) the rock said. (You need to slow down, young man…you young people are always in such a rush. Miss half of life that way…now why don't you just sit back and relax for a while?)

"Wait—won't you tell me what you thought was interesting?"

(You,) the rock said simply. (The way you were looking at me. Your mind was…open. That's why you could hear me—most can't these days. Or if they can, they have to train hard first, to lose all their bad habits of looking at things…people look _through_ things these days. But you didn't.)

"Oh...well…Brom told me how to do that," Eragon said, blushing. If someone had told him just a month ago that he would be complimented by a rock, he would have burst out laughing at the joke.

(But still. It takes wisdom to listen to the wise. And now…you asked how I came here? Listen closely…)

And so Eragon sat there, enthralled, as the rock began telling him of ages long past, when the world was warmer, and how a great cold came. The rock spoke of sheets of ice miles high, and how he was dragged along by one for many years, until finally he landed there in the clearing.

(And at last the ice melted away…and for the first time in many, many lifetimes of your kind, Spring came. Ever since then, I've had a fondness for Spring…)

"Eragon! Eragon, where did you go? Come here!" Brom called from the clearing.

"Ah—I'd better go," Eragon said to the rock. "Thank you, um—"

(You may call me Ahgd,) the rock said.

"Thank you, Ahdg, and I hope you see many, many more Springs."

(I may yet,) Ahdg said. (Now that you've come, I may yet.)

Eragon wanted to ask what in the world Ahdg meant by that, but before he could, Ahdg had drifted off to sleep. Shrugging, Eragon hurried back to Brom.

"Where were you?" Brom said. "I wanted to talk to you about which route we should take tomorrow."

"I was…" Eragon paused. Should he tell Brom that he had been talking to a rock?

_Tell the stupid old man,_ Saphira said. _I like him._

Smiling, Eragon did. Brom burst out laughing. "A rock! Wonderful, Eragon, wonderful. _Now_ you're making some progress."

"But—wait," Eragon said, blinking. "How did I talk to it, anyway? I don't know that Ancient Language yet."

"But you do," Brom said, smiling. He sat down at the campfire, and Eragon sat next to him. "Everything understands the Ancient Language. If someone spoke to you in it, you would know what they were saying. So in that sense, you do know it. The problem is learning to know it _consciously_."

"…huh?" was the best Eragon could manage. Brom handed him a bowl of some sort of soup and took one for himself.

"It's simple," Brom said, blowing on a spoonful of soup. "Everything understands the language, but that doesn't mean they can speak it. You have to learn the words, and how to use them. You have to get used to it. Don't worry—it comes naturally to most magic-users. You should be able to pick it up quickly enough."

"So…so you'll start teaching me words, now?" Eragon said, his eyes shining.

"Not so fast!" Brom said, laughing. "Don't get too excited—you're still not ready for any advanced spells. Remember, a spell takes its energy from you. Try for a spell you don't have the strength for, and that's _it_. But yes, I'll start teaching you some words."

"Like _br_—I mean, like the one that means fire?"

"Yes, yes. And don't worry so much about just saying them—you have to be trying to _do_ something to use magic. The Ancient Language is what magicians use to cast spells, but it's also so a language. You're supposed to speak in it! Half of magic _is_ talking, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Eragon said with a sinking feeling. This was starting to sound complicated again. Just when he'd thought he would _finally_ get to learn some magic...

"Oh, for example…" Brom paused to take another spoonful of soup. "Watch this."

Turning to the fire, he started speaking. At first Eragon couldn't understand a thing Brom was saying, but then he tried listening in the same way he had looked at the rock—really _listening_ with his whole being. And then he could understand Brom perfectly.

_"Fire, burn higher for a moment. That's what a fire's meant to do, burn, isn't it? Just let loose for a moment, let yourself burn as high as you can!"_

The fire suddenly roared and grew; Eragon had to scoot back to avoid getting scorched. "That was incredible!"

Brom spoke softly to the fire again, and it quieted down. "Oh, it's not that impressive—you just haven't seen much magic yet. Before long you'll be doing things much more 'incredible' than that, believe me! But did you see how I did it? It's all about the words. I told the fire what I wanted it to do. Of course, you also need the will to make it listen to you."

Eragon nodded slowly, trying to absorb everything Brom was telling him. "But…what about when you lit the fire on the plains? There wasn't any fire to talk to."

Brom shrugged. "I didn't say _all_ magic was like that. There are also spells that create things, like fire, but the energy has to come from somewhere. If the fire is already there, you can work _with_ it. If it isn't, you have to make the fire first."

"…huh," Eragon said.

"I know it's a lot to take in all at once," Brom said, patting Eragon on the back. "But you'll learn, never fear. Now, can you read?"

Eragon nodded. "Uncle Garrow always told me and Roran that if we want to get a fair deal, we have to know what the deal is. He taught us our letters and our numbers so we could find things out for ourselves and not have to depend on someone else to read us a contract or anything like that."

"Good, good. Now, here's what I'm going to do," Brom said, digging through his pack. He pulled out a stack of parchment pages and a charcoal stick. "I'm going to write out some basic vocabulary and grammar that you'll need to know, and then you can study it. Sound good?"

Eragon nodded. "Yeah! Thanks, Brom!"

"Don't mention it," Brom said gruffly. "Only doing my duty, training the next Dragon Rider."

Eragon hugged Saphira, grinning. "Soon we'll be able to do magic, Saphira!"

_We'll be great at it_, she said, nuzzling Eragon. _Even better than the stupid old man._

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya sat in Galbatorix's lair, which turned out to be a guest bedroom that hadn't been used in years. It was filled with spare junk, and it was freezing cold.

"B-b-boss…c-couldn't we get some h-heat?" one of the Urgals said.

"No! Now stop sniveling and go get me something hot to drink."

The Urgal nodded miserably and shuffled off. Galbatorix, satisfied with his henchmen-intimidation skills, turned to Arya. "So, Arya—caught at last!"

Arya rolled her eyes, tugging at the ropes around her. "This is _very_ uncomfortable. And you do realize that Eragon's going to come blast you to smithereens in about a minute or two? Your 'lair' isn't that well-hidden."

Galbatorix smiled a fiendish smile. "Oh, I don't think so, princess. In fact, I think you and I are going to have a nice little chat. You see…Eragon and I made this plan together!"

Arya gasped, horrified. "No—that's impossible! Eragon has some creepy stalker-ish obsession with me, he'd never let me come to harm!"

"Yes…unfortunately," Galbatorix said, grimacing. "Part of the deal was that we don't hurt you. You!" he shouted, pointing to another Urgal. "Untie her and…" Galbatorix cleared his throat, flushing. "…give her a blanket or something. It's cold in here." He shook his head, sighing. It was all for the sake of greater villainy, he had just had to remember that.

"Why did you kidnap me anyway?" Arya said, wrapping her blanket around her.

"Because!" Galbatorix said. "BECAUSE!" If all he could do was question Arya menacingly, then dammit, he was going to put some _feeling_ into it! "Because you corrupted my henchmen and formed a new group, defying my undisputed rule!"

"It _is_ disputed," Arya said wearily. "Didn't you notice Eragon and his crew running around? And the random guys weren't my idea—Durza came up with it."

"Durza!?" the King said, staggering back. "_Durza!?_ My own henchmen betrayed me like that!?"

Arya tapped her foot; she was growing bored. "Yes, Durza. He said you aren't a very good boss. And he wanted health benefits and sick leave and vacations days and all that."

"Wh—wh—what!? No…no, this can't _be_!" Galbatorix said, throwing an arm across his brow. "I am wounded…terribly, mortally wounded!"

"Would you stop being so theatrical? Your histrionics are causing me serious pain. And you said you wouldn't hurt me!" Arya said.

"…fine," Galbatorix said, grinding his teeth. "Anyway…I can't believe Durza would do this to me—he's my number one henchman! My right-hand man! The Darth Vader to my Emperor Palpatine! Oh…oh…"

"Yes, well, that's what happens when you mistreat your henchpeople," Arya said. "And can I go now? I have things to do."

"Yes, yes, whatever. Like I care about that _now_! Durza…how could you _do_ this to me!? How could you ruin the reputation of the Bad Guys like this!?"  
Arya stalked off as quickly as possible. "Moron," she muttered, covering her ears to block out the King's blubbering.

Durza, meanwhile, was cowering before Eragon and Saphira. "For the last time, Shade—what did you do to Arya!?"

"I didn't do _anything_ to her!" Durza said, sitting in the corner of the living room with an expression of utter misery on his face. "Why did you attack me?"  
"Because you're a villain!" Eragon said, pointing his finger at Durza. "And I'm the Rider—I ask the questions!"

"Oh yeah!?" Durza said, getting to his feet. "Well…well…I'm the evil wizard, and I say you _suck_, Eragon!"

Eragon gasped. "Oh no you didn't!"

"Oh yes I did!" Durza said. Then he gulped. "Er…but, don't take that the wrong way…ow!"

_That was a little harsh, Eragon_, Saphira said.

"He deserved it," Eragon said. "He insulted the heroes! And besides, he's a villain. We're supposed to vanquish the Bad Guys."

Durza, lying on the floor with a bloody nose, decided to keep his mouth shut from now on. At that moment, Brom walked in.

"Well, the chapter's done," he said. "How's Operation: Rescue Arya going?"

"Not so good," Eragon said with a heavy sigh. "We still can't get Durza to tell us what he did to Arya, but I'm not giving up yet!"

"It looks like _he's_ giving up," Brom muttered, eyeing Durza, but he made sure Eragon couldn't hear him. "Wait—what's Murtagh doing here? Did we capture him, too?"  
"…no," Eragon said, glancing at Murtagh with a small shudder. "He's just sort of…he's just here."

Murtagh shuffled forward from a dark corner of the room. His eyes were bloodshot. "Hey," he said, grabbing Brom's sleeve. "Got any chocolate…?"

Brom shook him away. "What happened to him!?"

Eragon wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "He's…addicted. To chocolate. He had never had any before, and he really liked it, and…well…"

_Don't cry, Eragon_, Saphira said. _He'll be all right…we'll find a way to help him._

"Like you helped Elva?" Durza said.

"Shut up!" Eragon said, whacking Durza with a lamp from the end table.

"Ow—that's _heavy_!"

"You're the villain! Now tell me what you did to Arya! Admit it—this is all your fault. You corrupted Arya and convinced her to turn away from the Good Guys!"

Durza remembered very vividly that it was _Arya_ who convinced him to join forces with her in the first place. Murtagh could back him up on that one…well, maybe. If he got some more chocolate, anyway. Durza opened his mouth to tell Eragon that when something occurred to him.

_Wait—if I tell them Arya started it, then they'll capture _her_ instead! Now that I joined the Random Guys, we have to stick together…_

"Yes," Durza said, swallowing hard. "I…I started it. It was my idea."

"I knew it!" Eragon said. "And now that we've captured you, we can return Arya to normal!"

"Are you sure you want her returned to normal?" Brom said, scratching his head. "I mean, she was a little…a little…" Brom sputtered to a stop as he saw the look on Eragon's face. "She was, er…um…she didn't like you?"  
"Brom…"

Brom shivered. "Yes, Eragon?"  
"You're so right!" To Brom's complete shock, Eragon burst into tears and latched onto the old man, hugging him very tightly.

"Eragon…can't…breath…"

"Why, why,_ why_ doesn't she like me? Why does she think we can't be together? What is it I haven't got!?"  
"Maybe it's because you're a whiny brat who's about a fifth her age," Durza said, rubbing his head where he had been hit with the lamp.

"Brom…he's being mean to me!" Eragon said.

Saphira stalked over to Durza. _Shade…apologize to my Rider_.

Ever the bravest man would quail under the angry stare of a dragon. But Durza, after many lessons on being a good villain with Arya, didn't back down. "No! I meant what I said, and it's the truth!"

_I'll give you one last chance_, Saphira said, raising a clawed foot.

"N…no…no! No, I won't take it back!"

Brom winced and shut his eyes. "Don't watch, Eragon," he said as muffled screams of pain erupted.

In a shadowy corner of the room, unnoticed by all, Murtagh was rocking back and forth, staring at the empty wall. "Must…find chocolate…must…find chocolate…!"


	23. Red Herring

Author's Note: This chapter features Eragon, Brom, and Saphira...and a liiiittle Murtagh. Murtagh comes back next chapter, though. Hopefully the next chapter will be out a bit quicker, as I'm pretty sure I know what the plot will be...it'll be short, though. Anyway, enjoy chapter 21!

Chapter 21: Red Herring

Murtagh danced about like a gleeful toddler, waving a bag full of chocolate. "Chocolate chocolate chocolate chocolate!"

"Murtagh, calm down," Eragon said. "It's just chocolate!"

Murtagh stopped dead, his eyes wide with horror. "_Just chocolate!?_ How could you _say_ such a thing!?"

_Eragon, I'm really starting to worry about him_, Saphira said. _This chocolate addiction has gone too far!_

"I know, but what can we do? Anyway, let's get back to interrogating Durza!"

Brom shook his head. "Eragon…is it even worth trying? So far we haven't gotten one single piece of information out of him."

Eragon glared at Brom. "Brom, we just have to keep trying! I mean, okay, so far he's proved very resistant to _physical_ torture…but what about _psychological_ torture? We already know he's disturbed—it'll work great!"

"What are you going to do to him?" Brom whispered, shivering.

Eragon smiled with a gleam in his eye. "Come with me and you'll find out…"

They walked over to Durza, who was huddled miserably in the corner with a broken nose and two broken ribs. "Wad do you wand dow?" he muttered.

Eragon took out a bar of chocolate. "Want? Oh…nothing. I'm just going to sit here and eat this bar of chocolate and _not give you any_!"

Durza stared at him, nonplussed. "How is dat torture?"

Murtagh gasped in horror. "_No_! Eragon, you wouldn't do something so…so cruel and inhuman!"

"Why not?" Eragon said. "He isn't human, so it's okay to be inhuman to him."

"What about elves?" Brom said. "And dwarves, and dragons?"

"This is different," Eragon said. "I mean, we don't even know if he's really alive or not! Maybe he's…I don't know…undead or something."

"I am _dot_ undead!" Durza said, but he was ignored. As usual.

Eragon slowly ate the bar of chocolate. "Mmmm…"

Murtagh rushed forward. "It's okay, Durza—you can have some of _my_ chocolate!"

Durza sighed. "Murtagh, I really dod't need ady chocolate. Why dod't you just keep dat…"

Murtagh hesitated. "Are you sure? We Random Guys have to stick together."

"I'b sure."

"Yipee!" Murtagh shouted, falling on the chocolate with a fiendish cackle. Soon the floor was littered with scraps of wrappers and chocolate crumbs. Murtagh eyed the crumbs.

"Oh Murtagh, no, _don't_ lick the crumbs off the floor," Brom said. "Here, have some more chocolate…and eat it _slowly_ this time!"

Murtagh nodded, snatching the bag of chocolate away from Brom.

Eragon threw down the chocolate, frustrated. It was immediately grabbed by Murtagh, but Eragon didn't notice. "This isn't working—we just have to _try_…something _else_!"

"Cad I go dow?" Durza said.

"No! You're not going until you tell us where Arya is and what you did to her!"

"I already told you—I didn' do anyting!"

"You liar—" Eragon started to say, but he was interrupted by a loud bang as the door was thrown open. Arya walked in, totally uninjured.

"Just _what_ is going on here!?" she said.

Brom gulped, looking around the room. Eragon was still trying to interrogate Durza, who was a bloody mess, and Murtagh was crouched on the floor licking up chocolate crumbs, despite Brom's pleas to cease and desist. "Er…nothing?"

Something about the look in Arya's eyes told Brom that she didn't believe him for a second.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Uh-oh…Brom, come take a look at this."

Brom dismounted his horse and walked over to where Eragon was crouched on the side of the dirt road. Brom didn't know why he had gotten down from his horse to stare at the ground, but he assumed it was important.

"What is it? I don't see anything."

"There—that track," Eragon said, pointing to a strange, clawed print on the ground. "What is that?"

Brom sucked in a sharp breath. "It's…a print from the Ra'zac. We'll have to be more careful than ever now that they're so close. Let's hurry—we're close to Gil'ead now."

They road on through the day, and just as the sun was setting, Eragon caught a glimpse of the walls of Gil'ead. It was a beautiful city, and a wealthy one. The wide streets were paved with cobblestones, and the houses had wooden roofs rather than thatch, as it was in Carvahall. Cheerful city dwellers roamed the streets, greeting neighbors, shopping at the open-air markets, and going about all sorts of peaceful business. It was hard to believe that this was a major garrison of the empire.

But in the center of the city was the Fortress of Gil'ead, around which the town had been built. It was well-stocked with troops and provisions, and it was the reason Gil'ead was so prosperous. No one would dare attack the city, knowing that the Empire would at once retaliate. Because Gil'ead had begun as a support to the fortress, there were even some small farms outlying the city, and all of the citizens could be sheltered in the fortress in the event of a siege. All in all, it was an extremely pleasant place to live.

"How could _this_ be a stronghold of the Empire?" Eragon asked Brom in a whisper as they led their horses through the streets to a small stable.

Brom shrugged. "It's in the King's best interest to keep his people happy. Happy citizens are less likely to revolt than miserable ones."

"But what about Yazuac?"

Brom shook his head. "I don't know, Eragon. Things are changing—who knows why? But you're going to change all that. There will be peace again, Eragon," he said, ruffling Eragon's hair.

Eragon gulped. Every Brom said things like that it made Eragon made nervous, and Brom said them rather often. He obviously had very, very high hopes for Eragon, hopes that Eragon had trouble matching in himself.

"Ah…here we are!" Brom said as they reached the stable. They paid the owner to let them stable their horses. "Just for a day or two," Brom said. "We're visiting some relatives, but we must be moving on soon. We're on our way to Terim." Eragon made a mental note to ask what Terim was later. Then he spotted something that drove all other thoughts out of his head.

"Wow—whose horse is _that_?" he whispered, walking slowly over to the large black stallion. It was a powerful creature, and Eragon had no doubt it was trained for battle. Why he thought that, he couldn't say; it just looked exactly like he had always imagined a king's charger would look. It was as if the animal had stepped out of some old legend, only without its champion.

"A young man stabled that one a few days ago," the owner said. "I'd like to know who he is, to own such a fine horse—must be some noble's son, I suppose. He had dark hair, very pale face…a bit grim, though. I wonder where he is now? He said he'd be coming back for his horse soon…"

Brom shrugged. "I wonder," he said politely, and then ushered Eragon out. "Now…let's start poking around. We might hear some useful rumors."

And poke around they did. Eragon was surprised by how much could be learned from rumors that he would have taken for no more than idle gossip. The King's General had been in Gil'ead recently, they were told, although no one seemed to know why.

"They say he's a very strange man," one woman said. "A dark magician, with red eyes! Like an evil spirit. But I don't believe none of that. The King's a good man, and he don't go consorting with no spirits."

Eragon had to resist telling her how wrong she was. Everyone in Carvahall said the King was a wicked man—how could these people, who lived in a fortress city, not know that?

"They say he brought a beautiful woman with him," an old man told them. "One of the rebels. Cor, but I'd like to have laid eyes on _her_, from what I've heard of her looks!"

Eragon had been sure this was the woman from his dream—she had certainly been very beautiful, in spite of her injuries—but his hopes were dashed by a farmer who was in town selling some of his produce. It seemed the King's General had left, and taken his prisoner with him.

"Off to the King, no doubt," the farmer said. "Dunno what'll happen to her now, and I don't _want_ to know. I likes the King fine, but that General gives me the shivers. I saw them go out the gate—I've never seen someone so pale in my life. And he had funny hair, too—red like blood, down to his shoulders. Tain't natural. I'd hate to be in _her_ shoes!"

Eragon slumped down on the stoop of a shop. "Now what do we do?" he asked Brom.

Brom patted his shoulder. "If she's gone, there's nothing more we can do to find her. If she's being taken to the King, that means Uru'baen, and we don't dare go there. We'd only end up dead, and no use to her or anyone else. No, the best thing would be to alert the Varden. And I've got to get you there anyway. It's not safe to wandering the lands, not with the Ra'zac on our trail. We'll stay in Gil'ead tonight, then set out tomorrow."

Eragon nodded. They got a room at the Goose and Gander inn. Brom went out to look around the city more and try to ferret out any useful information. Eragon decided to stay behind so he and Saphira could spend some time together—she had been stuck in his pack all day.

"So what do you think of Gil'ead?"

_Don't like it. All hard stone—no trees! And it smells funny. Too many people._

Eragon laughed. "I know what you mean…it makes me a little homesick. I can't wait till we're on the road again—it'll feel good to be out under the open sky."

_Sky!_ Saphira said, jumping up and fluttering her wings. _I want the sky!_

"Saphira, no one can _have_ the sky!" Eragon said.

_The sky is for dragons—for flying!_

"You mean…you can't fly?"

Saphira ducked her head, grumbling. _Not yet._

"Huh…I know—maybe you can practice flying!"

Saphira perked up at once. _How?_

"Well…umm…you could jump off this table here, and try to glide a little on your wings. That way you'd make the muscles stronger. And I'll catch you so you don't get hurt. Want to try?"

Saphira nodded and clambered up onto the table. She stood at the edge, looking over. It wasn't a very long drop—maybe a yard or so—but then, she was a very small dragon. She was about the size of a house cat. Saphira tensed her legs and jumped forward as hard as she could, slamming into Eragon and knocking him over.

"Ouch—you were supposed to glide, Saphira, not jump!"

Saphira flicked her tail. _Not high enough._

Eragon lifted a chair and put it carefully on top of the table. "How about now?"  
_  
Much better!_ Saphira pulled herself onto the chair, then balanced at the edge again. Eragon took several steps back, his arms outstretched to catch her. Then Saphira leaped.

Her jump carried her forward, and Saphira tried to stretch out her wings to catch the air and glide to the ground. But she couldn't get her wings unfurled quite in time, and Eragon had to jump forward to grab her before she hit the ground.

"Saphira, are you all right?" Eragon asked.

Saphira wriggled a little, seeing if anything hurt. _I'm okay. Why couldn't I do it?_

They sat down to think about this for a while. Eragon tried to remember all the times he had seen birds fly, and then something occurred to him. "Saphira, maybe you have to open your wings earlier?"  
_  
I don't know how!_

"Well…here, how about this?" Eragon picked Saphira up and carried her over to the table. "Oof—you're getting a little heavy for this," he said. Saphira snapped at his fingers. "Now…here we go!"

Eragon carefully carried Saphira through what he thought her jump would look like, and Saphira practiced opening her wings at the right time. "Great!" Eragon said after several run-throughs. "Ready to try it for real?"

Saphira fluttered her wings with nervous anticipation as she crouched once more at the edge of the chair. Eragon stood below, ready to catch her. He nodded encouragingly. "Come on, Saphira—you can do it!"

Saphira leapt forward and thrust open her wings as hard as she could. She wobbled slightly, but her wings caught the air and she glided forward into Eragon's arms. It wasn't quite flying, but it was a start.

"Yeah, Saphira, that was awesome!"

Saphira squeaked happily, nuzzling Eragon. _I'm gonna fly! Soon, I'm gonna fly!_

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brom returned to find Eragon and Saphira curled up together on one of the room's two beds. They looked so content that he hated to wake them—Brom knew that there were dark days ahead for Eragon and Saphira. But he had no choice.

"Eragon—Eragon! Wake up, but keep quiet."

Eragon stirred, blinking. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

"It's late," Brom said. "Now keep quiet, and listen to me—it's very important. The Ra'zac are here, they've found us—we've got to hurry."

Eragon leapt up at once. "Where are we going to go?"

"_We_ aren't going anywhere," Brom said. "You're going to head for the Varden, and I'm going to draw off pursuit. I'll trick the Ra'zac into following me—a clear trail and they'll assume we've both gone that way."

"But—I can't leave you to deal with those monsters by yourself!"

"Oh yes you can," Brom said firmly. "No buts, Eragon. I'll be fine—I'll head for Ellesmera and tell the elves about you. They'll be more than happy to offer greater support to the Varden once they know about this. And they deserve to know what happened to the egg, as well."

"But Brom, I don't know how to reach the Varden!"

Brom paused, considering this. Then he pressed two fingers to Eragon's temple and whispered words of magic. Eragon saw a flood of images before the contact was broken.

"There," Brom said. "I've given you the route—just concentrate on the images and you'll be able to see them clearly. You'll be fine, Eragon. I've gotten both of our horses, they're tied outside. Now come on!"

Out in the street, Brom mounted his horse and prepared to ride. Eragon grabbed his ankle. "Brom…will we see each other again?"

Brom forced a smile. "Of course we will, Eragon. I'm sure the elves will want to meet you—I'll come to the Varden soon enough. I'll be fine, just concentrate on keeping yourself safe. And practice your magic!"

With that, he rode off. Eragon took the reigns of his own horse, and was about to mount before a sudden thought stopped him. The woman from his dream…the farmer had said he saw the General leave with her, but the farmer hadn't gotten a good look at the woman—he hadn't even been able to describe her very well, except that she had long red hair.

"I'll just check," Eragon whispered. "I'll just go to the fortress to check—just to make sure."

Focusing his magic, he said to his horse, "_Can you wait by the gates for me? I'll come soon, but there's something I need to do first."_

(All right,) the horse said. (Be careful.)

Eragon smiled; he and Brom's horses had gotten rather attached to them during their journey. _"I will. Thank you."_

The horse trotted off, and Eragon, with Saphira on his shoulders, made for the Fortress of Gil'ead. The streets were empty, and Eragon's footsteps seemed to echo so loudly he was afraid the whole city would wake. But no one did, and before too long Eragon reached the fortress. There were guards before the doors, but no guards were posted on the fortress walls; the guards on the city walls were thought to be enough, especially in fairly peaceful times.

"How can we get around them?" Eragon muttered.

_Distract them?_ Saphira said.

"With what?"  
_  
I'll do it!_ Saphira hurried off, her tail swinging behind her.

"Saphira, wait—Saphira!" Eragon sighed, getting up to hurry after her. "Great…just what I needed!"

The two guards were leaning back against the doorposts, fiddling with their spears. "Man…this duty is _the_ dullest thing we do."

The other guard nodded. "Mmm…no one would ever bother attacking the fortress. But I'd rather be here than off chasing the Varden!"

"Yeah, you got that right. Wait—what was that?"

The other guard looked up. "I didn't hear anything…wait, _that_?"

There was a scratching sound, and both guards looked off into the shadows of the path to the fortress. "Let's check it out."

The two guards cautiously made their way toward the sound, and Eragon slipped behind them and into the fortress. Years of hunting in the Spine had taught him to walk quickly and silently when he needed to; even a deer would be hard-pressed to hear Eragon approaching, and the two guards, already distracted, didn't have the slightest idea that someone had just gotten past them.

Saphira slipped in just behind Eragon, and the two huddled in an alcove in the main hall. "That was crazy!" Eragon whispered to Saphira.

Saphira arched her neck proudly, as if Eragon had just paid her a great complement.

"All right…let's go," Eragon said. They made their way through the silent fortress as quietly as they could, going down a staircase whenever they found one. The dungeons were sure to be on the lowest levels. Every small sound made Eragon's heart nearly stop, and he was sure he would be caught any second. But they met no one. Peaceful times had made the soldiers of Gil'ead grow somewhat slack, and they no longer patrolled within the fortress at night.

The air grew colder as they descended another staircase; they must be deep underground. Eragon stepped forward slowly, groping his way along the wall. Then he felt bars under his hands and sprang back.

"Who are you?"

Eragon stumbled back even farther. He muttered a few words and cast one of the simple spells Brom had taught him. A small ball of light formed in his hand, and he looked into the cell. A boy a few years older than him was standing there, grasping the bars. He had dark, messy hair and a pale face, and he was staring straight at Saphira.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"All right, Eragon, you've got some explaining to do!" Arya said, standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed and a deadly expression on her face.

Eragon shuffled his feet. "Well, you were gone, and I was afraid you might have been captured by the enemy, so…"

"So you decided to torture Durza? How was _that_ supposed to help?"

"He's the enemy!" Eragon said. "Besides, he admitted to starting this whole thing!"

Arya turned on Durza. "Why did you do that!?"

"Becaud if I didn'—"

"Wait—why are you talking like that?"

"Dey broge by nose…"

"Eragon, the Good Guys do _not_ break helpless captives' noses! _Weis heil!_"

"Ah…thanks. And I told him I started it because if I told him _you_ started it, then they would have captured and tortured you instead!"

Eragon rushed over. "I would never have believed such an obvious lie!"

Arya's eyes narrowed. "Eragon…I _did_ start it. I suggested that we defect from the Good Guys and the Bad Guys in the first place!"

"You…_what_?" Eragon said weakly, staggering back. "But…but…no! But Arya, _I'm_ your love interest—you're supposed to be on _my_ side!"

Brom gulped. "Eragon, I don't think that's such a good idea…"

But it was too late. "For the last time, I am _not_ your love interest!" Arya said, whacking Eragon soundly in the head. "Now come on, Durza, let's get out of here."

"What about Murtagh?"

"What _about_ Murtagh?" Arya said. Then she spotted Murtagh licking the floor. "What _happened_ to him!? Don't tell me they tortured him too!"

"No," Durza said sadly, shaking his head. "He's…a chocolate addict. Brom's been feeding him chocolate so he doesn't go into withdrawal, but…well…there's just not much that can be done."

"How would you guys _ever_ survive without me?" Arya muttered. "Durza, you bring Murtagh along. Tell him we'll give him chocolate. Brom—I'm going to need your help. You're with us now."

"M-m-me!?" Brom said. "But—what if Subieko decides to kill me!?"

Durza patted him on the shoulder. "Subieko likes us the best. If you join us, your chances of survival are much _better_!"

"But you _died_!" Brom wailed. "How are my chances of survival improved by hanging around with a dead guy!?"

"Oh just come on already," Durza muttered, dragging both Brom and Murtagh along.

"Chocolate," Murtagh muttered. "Oh, my beloved chocolate…!"

Elsewhere, Subieko sat at her computer, typing. "Say…where'd everybody go? And what happened to all my chocolate!?"


	24. The Prisoner

Author's Note: See, I told you the next update would be quicker! This chapter is very short, but Murtagh, Eragon, and Saphira will have more facetime soon. And so will Brom. Anyway...enjoy the chapter. The next chapter is Arya and Durza. Oh, and the random l337 at the beginning of the chapter is just that--random. Don't take it too seriously. -laughs- Oh--and I named Brom's horse after Bree from The Horse and His Boy, book 3 of the Narnia Chronicles.

Chapter 22: The Prisoner

Subieko was just about to start writing the next chapter when her door burst open. Eragon and Saphira rushed in.

"Subieko, something terrible has happened! You've got to help us!"

Subieko closed her laptop screen. "What's the matter, guys?"

Eragon's eyes filled with tears. "Durza kidnapped Arya and Brom and Murtagh! They'll all suffer so horribly unless we can rescue them!"

Subieko's eyes narrowed. "Is that _really_ what happened, Eragon?"

Saphira gave a little dragonish sigh. _Arya came and dragged Durza and Brom off to help Murtagh with his chocolate addiction._

Subieko smiled. "It's nice to see them all getting along so well. Oh, but that means you two are the only Good Guys left, right? You don't really count as a side anymore."

Eragon gasped. "But—but—you let Arya and Durza form the Random Guys when there was only two of them!"

Subieko shrugged. "Yeah, but they're just cool like that. You could always join the Bad Guys. Or let Roran, Garrow, and Katrina join the Good Guys."

"Never!" Eragon said. "Wait—what about Nasuada and Orik and Oromis?"

Subieko wrinkled her nose. "You'd want _Oromis_ on your side? But he's so…well…creepy! He's a perverted old man! And anyway, they all come in much later. And they're not as cool as you guys. Well, actually, Orik is. He's really cool. l337, even."

"…l337?"

Subieko nodded. "Yeah. It's l337speak. Sort of like the Ancient Language, only it makes more sense."

Eragon still looked blank. _Don't ask_, Saphira said. _I don't even _want_ to know…_

With that, the two turned and left the room. Subieko shook her heads. "They just don't understand…oh well. The Random Guys pwnd them, anyway. N00bz…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon and the strange dark-haired boy stared at each other for a moment, too startled to speak. Then the boy's knuckles turned white as he grasped the bars tightly, and he spoke. "A dragon!? It can't be…then you're…?"

Eragon hastily backed away, ready to run.

"No—wait!" the boy called, stretching a hand as far as he could through the bars. "You…are you really…a dragon rider? That dragon…I'm not dreaming all this, am I?"

Eragon stepped a little closer, shaking his head. "No, you're not. This is Saphira…she's my dragon." Saphira hissed, and Eragon quickly added, "And I'm her rider."

A smile slowly grew on the boy's face. "It's really true…there are still dragons! You've got to get me out of here—I have to come with you!"

"What!? But I don't even know who you are—you don't even know where I'm going!"

"I'm Murtagh," the boy said. "And I don't care where you're going, I want to go with you. I…I hate the King, and the Empire. The one thing the King would fear is the return of the dragon riders, so I've got to come with you! I can help you—I'm a swordfighter, I know how to take care of myself. I won't hold you back. Please!"

Eragon hesitated, biting his lip. He had a feeling Brom would have called him crazy for trusting Murtagh, but he sounded so sincere! And…there was something a little sad about him.

"I…I'll get you out." He quickly undid the bolt on the cell, and Murtagh stepped forward, grinning.

"Thanks," he said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Eragon."

_I think I like him_, Saphira said to Eragon. _His eyes are kind._

Eragon smiled. "Let's get out of here—my horse is waiting by the gates."

"Do you mind if I get my horse?" Murtagh said. "He's stabled in town…"

"Wait—that's _your_ horse, that black one!?"

Murtagh nodded. "Yeah."

"All right," Eragon said. "We'll do that, and…we'll figure out the rest later. We've got to get out of Gil'ead—there are…people looking for me."

"The Empire? Me too. I guess we'll be fugitives together."

The two of them left the prison as stealthily as they could and headed for town. Luckily, Murtagh knew of a little-used servant's that was far from the main entrance, and unguarded. Together, the two boys and the dragon crept through the city, toward the stables. It wasn't difficult to break in—Murtagh knew how to pick locks.

"Hey there, boy…let's get you out of here," Murtagh said softly as he quickly saddled up Tornac and got ready to leave. Then he remembered something. "Damn…they confiscated my sword when I was arrested. But where could I get another…?"

Eragon was tempted to offer Murtagh Zar'roc, but he knew he couldn't. Brom had told him to keep the sword safe, never to let it out of his sight. Brom would never have approved of giving it to a total stranger.

Murtagh was poking through the gear in the other stalls. The stable kept tack, and any gear the rider wished to leave with his tack, in bins on the outside of each stall. At last, he found what he was looking for—a sword of the right size for him. He gave it a few experimental swings, then nodded.

"This'll do—let's go."

"Wait—you're going to _steal_ that sword!? What if the guy who owns it comes back and needs it?"

Murtagh shrugged. "I need it more. I bet whoever owns it isn't a fugitive. I bet whoever owns it doesn't need to worry every day about being attacked. I bet whoever owns it—"

"I get the idea," Eragon said. "And…and you're right. I just—don't like."

Murtagh gave a lopsided smile. "I never have, either. But sometimes there's nothing else to do. Here—I'll leave him this," Murtagh said, pulling some coins out of his saddlebags. "That make you feel better?"

Eragon shrugged. "I guess." Then he smiled. "You know…for a criminal, you're not such a bad guy."

Murtagh laughed, then quieted when he remembered they were supposed to be hiding. "For a traitor to the Empire, neither are you."

Their prospects still looked dark as Murtagh and Eragon rode out of the city. But somehow, knowing that they were in it together made things seem just a little bit brighter.

"So where are we going, anyway?" Murtagh said as Gil'ead faded into the distance.

"To the Varden," Eragon said. "We're going to stop Galbatorix!"

Murtagh managed to nod and smile, but it was strained. _The Varden…damn! …but I have to. I have to protect them—there's no other dragon rider coming! I'll do it for you, Mom. I'll do it for you._

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brom urged his horse as he galloped through the night. His plan was working perfectly—the Ra'zac were already on his trail. In fact, his plan was working a little _too_ well.

"Damn…I didn't expect them to catch up this fast!"

But Brom wasn't about to give up. Eragon was depending on him, and there was no way he was letting Saphira and her rider down.

"Let's go, Stormchaser—we've got to outrun them!"

(For the last time, my name is Bree, not Stormchaser. And I am a horse, not a god—I will do what I can.)

"I know you will, Bree," Brom said, smiling. "Let's both do what we can."

They rode on through the night, knowing the Ra'zac were behind them…knowing that time was running out.

The question was, who was it running out for?

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brom was huddled in the corner of the Random Guy's base, whimpering. "Ohhh…now the Ra'zac are chasing me! What if Subieko kills me? I'm too young to die!" Then he realized that he was actually extremely old. "I'm too old to die!"

"Brom, that doesn't make sense," Arya said. "Now shut up, I'm trying to concentrate here."

"Easy for _you_ to say," Brom said. "You didn't die in the original book!"

Arya ignored the old man, but Durza took pity on him and went to sit down next to Brom. Brom sidled away as subtly as he could.

"Look, Brom…you're going to be fine. So just calm down, okay?"

"How do you know? You're just saying that so I'll be quiet!"

"Of course I'm not!" Durza said. "I wouldn't lie to you about something like that! I died in the original book too, remember? Anyway…Subieko likes you. She wouldn't just kill you off."

"She likes you, too, but that doesn't mean she won't kill _you_ off. Remember the final battle in the original book?"

Durza scowled. "Don't remind me. But that's all going to change now—just you wait. This is a _different_ story, Brom. And you're a Random Guy now—Random Guys have to stick together!" He flung an arm around Brom's shoulders.

Brom shoved Durza away, brushing himself off with a shudder. "Er…thanks, Durza…I think. So…so you really think I won't die?"

"I'm positive," Durza said. "Anyway, let's go help Arya—she's trying to cure Murtagh of his chocolate addiction."

They walked over to where Arya was menacing Murtagh. Murtagh was clutching a paper bag in his hands, trying desperately to keep it away from Arya, but she was having none of it.

"Murtagh, just give it to me! This is for your own good, you know!" Finally she managed to snatch it away. "Here, you two get rid of this."

Brom and Durza looked into the bag. In it was a massive amount of chocolate.

Durza swallowed hard. "Arya…y-you're not going to…"

"Oh yes I am," Arya said. "He's going to go off chocolate…_completely_."

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!" Murtagh cried. Somewhere in the distance, someone yelled, "Run—it's Darth Vader!"

Durza made a 'hmph' noise, folding his arms. "I thought _I_ was Darth Vader!"

"Actually, Morzan is Darth Vader," Brom said. "You're more like Darth Maul, I suppose. You're just there to look menacing and get killed in the first movie. I mean, first book."

"But—I don't want to be Darth Maul! He looks so stupid!"

Arya and Brom both stared at him with eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into their hairlines.

"Are you implying that I look stupid?" Durza said, his eyes narrowing. "Because if you _are_…"

Brom immediately backed away. "No, no, how could think such a thing, I—"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Well, I am. Durza, you look stupid. Now help me with Murtagh!"

Durza sighed sadly. "I knew it. I _knew_ I looked stupid. Why did Chris have to give me matching hair-and-eye colors? Why!? And why did they have to be stupid colors like maroon? What was wrong with red!?"

Arya patted his arm. "It's okay…we've all suffered. Eragon used to be just brown eyebrows and intense eyes. Brom had hair that was 'silver, not white.' It even happened to Katrina—her hair was like a spray of molten copper."

"Ouch…that sounds painful," Durza said.

"Exactly," Arya said. "Only I was spared, and that's because I'm the love interest. My only purpose is to look beautiful."

"I don't know about spared," Durza said. "He says you have 'sculpted lips' about a bajillion times. Lips just aren't supposed to be sculpted. How would you _talk_?"

Arya nodded. "Yes…it's been hard. It's okay that you look stupid, Durza. We like you anyway. Well, no, actually I don't like you at all, but it's still okay that you look stupid, because you're very skilled. Well, actually, you aren't skilled at all. So…I guess you just look stupid. But that's okay."

"I think I'll go cry now," Durza said.

"Me too," said Brom.

Murtagh just said "NOOOOOOoooo……"


	25. Traitor

Author's Note: This chapter took much longer than I thought it would! And--ack!--I'm not sure which characters to use in the next chapter. Any suggestions...?

And this chapter is dedicated to Jade Rust and the other members of the Novelidea writing community, for their help with a very large writer's block.

Oh--and I'm not completely sure how to spell Dras-leona. My brother has taken my copy of Eragon, so there may be some spelling issues for place names...please forgive them.

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 23: Traitor

Murtagh was tied up in the corner. He had originally been gagged, but Arya had quickly realized that this was hazardous to Murtagh's health; he kept vomiting, and although his screaming was growing annoying, they couldn't have him choking.

"Murtagh, if you don't shut up I'm going to gag you again! And where's that banging coming from?"

It was clearly not coming from Murtagh, who was delirious at this point that he couldn't have hit the broad side of a barn, let alone the wall right next to him. Arya thought he was making real progress, though—he had had stopped hallucinating that pieces of chocolate were taunting him.

Arya went into the next room, slamming the door behind her in the hope that it would drown out Murtagh's wailing. Inside this room, the sound of banging filled the air.

"…why are you and Brom banging your heads on the wall?" Arya said, crossing her arms. All three of them were totally unmanageable; it was a wonder they'd survived this long alone. Of course, she wasn't sure Murtagh _was_ going to survive yet, but that was a question for another time.

"Because I'm (bang) going to (bang) die! (bang)" Brom said.

"Brom, for the last time, you're not going to die!" Arya said. "If you really want to know, go ask Subieko, she'll tell you."

Brom made no response except to go back to banging his head against the wall.

"And what's the matter with you?" Arya said to Durza.

"I don't (bang) have any (bang) friends. (bang)"

"That's _it_? What kind of lame problem is that!?" Arya said. "You're a villain! You're not supposed to have friends!"

Brom looked up. "Wait—does that mean I'm not your friend? Noooo—now I don't have any friends either!" He started banging his head against the wall at double the pace.

"Great, now you've got him started again!"

Suddenly, there was a low thump against the door. "Please," Murtagh said, barely audible. "Please let me out…I'm so lonely in here…no chocolate…no one to talk to…nothing to distract me from the pain…!"

"He's speaking in coherent sentences!" Arya said, opening the door. "Murtagh, are you back to normal?"

Murtagh turned and began speaking to the wall. "Is…is that you? Chocolate…? No—no, don't abandon me! Don't leave me alone! NOOOOoooo…..!"

Arya sighed, giving Murtagh a kick in the ribs to silence him. "You're all really getting on my nerves, you know."

"Then why did you drag us all into this in the first place?" Brom said.

"Well, I needed you to help me restrain Murtagh. And I needed Murtagh because you can't form a side with just two people. And I needed to form a side with Durza in order to get Subieko to keep me in the story. The only reason I'm in here at all is because I'm in his story arc!"

"What? I'm just being used?" Durza said.

"You didn't _know_?" Murtagh said, temporarily snapping out of his delirium.

Durza's eyes filled with tears. "That's it—I'm defecting to become a Bad Guy!"

"What!?" the other three shouted.

Durza turned to Murtagh. "Come with me, Murtagh—join the dark side! We have chocolate!" he said, ripping off Murtagh's bonds.

"YES!" Murtagh yelled, hugging Durza. They started out of the room.

"Wait!" Brom cried. "Don't leave me here—I want to come!"

"Why do _you_ want to come?" Durza said. "You're not a villain."

"You're the only supporter I have left! Eragon has completely forgotten me, Arya doesn't care what happens to me, Galbatorix never cared about me in the first place…I'm all alone in the world without you!"

"It's okay, Brom—come join the villains!"

The three of them marched out. Arya was left standing in the now-empty room. "Damn…I guess I have no choice—I have to join the Good Guys." She shuddered, but marched out of the room.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"But Sir, where are you _going_?"

Durza turned to the trembling guard. "Are you questioning me, solider?"

The man shook his head frantically. "No, no, of course not, General, I was just—just wondering, I—"

"Shut up," Durza said. The man did so at once. "The King wants to see the prisoner. And me," he added, making it sound like this should be patently obvious to the guard. "Keep an eye on Murtagh…the King would most—_displeased_—if anything were to happen to him."

"Yes, Sir, yes, I'll do that, I won't let him out of my sight—"

"You're dismissed." When the man hesitated for a moment, Durza added, "_Now_." The man fled.

Durza then mounted his horse, mumbling, "All of my troops are idiots. All of them." Arya was already sitting in front of him, her hands bound again. This time it was only for show—the bonds were loose enough for her to slip them off if she had to.

"I suppose some credit must go to their General," she whispered caustically.

Durza said nothing. This continued for some time, until they were well out of sight of Gil'ead. Then Arya slipped off the bonds on her hands, stretching her wrists. "Where are we going?"

"Dras-leona."

"How do you know the Ra'zac are there?"

"Because I ordered them to be," Durza said. "As soon as my message reaches them, they'll head back. That's where they live—in Mount Helgrind."

"_You_ ordered them? Won't that be suspicious?"

Durza shrugged. "By the time they realize it is, it'll be too late. As far as they know, I'm still their General…and that means my word is the King's word."

"What if they report this to the King?"

"They won't," Durza said. "They never bother—they hate reporting to the King. When he gets angry, there tend to be…casualties."

More silence. Arya was starting to get fed up with it. She had been trapped in a cell for weeks, saying as little as possible. Now that she was finally outside again, it felt good to speak freely, even to someone she still considered a temporary ally at best, and an enemy at worst. But before she could speak again, Durza beat her to the punch.

"Tell me something. Why couldn't I break you?"

"…what?"

"Why couldn't I break you? I've broken more people than I can count—I'm good at what I do. So why not you? People with more experience than you, people stronger than you, people with more magic than you—all of them broke, in the end. But not you. Why?"

"Elves are much stronger than humans," Arya said stiffly.

"I've interrogated plenty of elves, princess. I was a General—I didn't have a great deal of spare time. I was never assigned a prisoner unless they were extremely stubborn. Physical torture, that I could understand you enduring. After a while, the pain becomes meaningless…and elves can block it out, I'm told. But isolation—I've never seen anyone resist for more than a week. Most don't last even a few days. They go mad, alone in the dark, unable to feel anything…so how did you survive?"

Arya frowned, thinking back. As disturbing as this line of questioning was to her, her curiosity had been piqued by that last remark. That chamber…lost in a world of nothingness, wondering if she even really existed at all…how _had_ she survived it?

And then Arya realized that she hadn't. She had been ready to give in. If they had questioned her then, she would have told them whatever they wanted to know with perfect indifference. If Durza hadn't dragged her off, she might not have been able to speak at all, in the end.

"Maybe I have greater mental strength than others you've met," Arya said finally.

"…true enough," Durza said. Then he shook his head. "But you really do look like her," he muttered.

Arya had a feeling he hadn't meant to say that out loud—it sounded more like a stray thought. "Like who?"

"Hmm?"

Arya nodded, her suspicion confirmed. "You said I looked like 'her'. Who is it that I look like?"

"…it doesn't matter to you."

"Yes, it does," Arya said, feeling much more herself now that she was arguing instead of just sitting there. "If you think I look like someone, then I want to know who."

She didn't really expect Durza to tell her—Arya certainly wouldn't have if it had been her—but he spoke after a moment. "…you don't really look like her—just your hair. It's the same color. She wasn't an elf."

"Who?" Arya said again. At first she had only asked to get Durza to say _something_, but now she was curious.

"Someone I knew when I was young," Durza said, so softly Arya could barely hear him.

Before she could stop herself, Arya blurted out, "_You_ were young?"

"Everyone is young at some point in their lives, princess," Durza said.

"But you're not a…a person."

"Then what in Alagaesia is it you think I am?" Durza said.

"You're a Shade," Arya said. "You weren't born, you just…exist. Shades are beings formed by the merging of a group of spirits that possess the body of a sorcerer."

"…how many Shades have you met, besides me?" Durza said.

"None," Arya said. "But I've read about them in the libraries of Ellesmera.

"I see. And how many of those books were written by Shades?"

"None, of course," Arya said. "Who ever heard of a Shade writing a book? They—_you_—live only to sow chaos and destruction."

Durza smiled bitterly, although Arya couldn't see that. "Do you want to know what people said about elves where I grew up, princess? _You_ were the monsters they told children about. They said elves were savage creatures that lived in the woods. They had to keep themselves without any feelings at all times, or their animal natures would take over and they would destroy themselves. They never ate the flesh of any living thing—they sucked out their souls instead. If you ever met one, you were supposed to stab yourself through the heart so that you would die rather than lose your soul."

"That's ridiculous!" Arya said, twisting around to look at Durza. "That's—that's—elves aren't like that at all!"

"I _know_ that," Durza said. "But my people had never met any elves. I have."

"…that's different," Arya said. "And you have no people, you're a Shade. They're not a _species_."

"Whatever you like," Durza said. And that effectively put a stop to any conversation. They rode on for some hours, until the sun began to set, neither of them speaking a word. The silence was bothering Arya again, but she refused to be the one to speak first. At last they stopped to make camp in the shelter of an immense pine tree. Alagaesia was a wild land in the unsettled areas, and few roads existed; they would have to be careful. Bandits roamed the land, and they had to avoid the sight of even innocent people; if word of them reached the King, they would be finished.

Arya got down and stretched her legs, stiff from riding for so long. She paced about under the trees, glad to breath in fresh air at last, while Durza took care of his horse. He spoke to it in a language Arya didn't recognize. Shrugging, she walked a little farther, smiling as she ran her hands over the rough bark of the trees and looked at the deepening twilight through their branches.

"Can you carry both of us to Dras-leona, or do we need to look for another horse?" Durza said to Rashid.

The horse stamped his hoof. (I am not some noble's riding horse that needs to be coddled. I can bear you both as far as you need to go. Elves are light, and _you_ are too thin.)

"We've been over this before," Durza said.

(You still won't listen to me. A swordfighter needs muscles—you don't take care of yourself. I've seen enough warriors to know that.)

"I'm a _Shade_. This is how I'm supposed to look."

Rashid just tossed his head. (And are you sure this is wise?)

"What are you complaining about? You'll have your vengeance for Tornac, and I'll have mine for Carsib."

(And Fatima), Rashid said.

"I don't want to talk about her," Durza said, his hands clenching involuntarily.

(Would you talk to the elf about her?)

"…just _what_ are you implying?"

Rashid snorted. (You told her more about yourself in five minutes than you told Tornac in three years. All he knew was your name, and you weren't even the one who told him that.)

"So what? I need _someone_ to talk to, and I don't exactly have a lot of options here."

(You could talk to me.)

"You're a horse."

(The problem isn't that I'm a horse. It's that you aren't one. And I thought you hated elves.)

"I hated them when I thought they killed Carsib. Why should I care about them now?"

(I don't trust her), Rashid said.

"Why not?" Durza said. "She needs our help…for now."

Rashid tossed his head again, shoving Durza with his nose. (You see? There _is_ something the matter with you. Since when do you trust anyone? And you hardly know her. She hates you—you're her enemy.)

"There is _nothing_ the matter with me!" Durza said. "Just leave me alone already."

(You've betrayed the Empire. The most powerful man in the world is looking for you. You need to be careful), Rashid said.

"I'm always careful."

Rashid didn't even dignify that with a response. He ambled off a ways to graze, leaving Durza alone.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. A nerve was going in her temple. "Eragon, for the last time…get off of me!"

Eragon shook his head and continued to cling to Arya's knees. "Arya, I can't tell you how happy I am that you're back, this is so wonderful, I knew the Bad Guys couldn't keep you prisoner for long!"

Arya willed herself not to give Eragon a concussion with a swift kick to the head. She needed to join the Good Guys. It wouldn't do to knock out their leader.

"And now it's just me and you and Saphira, like it was _meant_ to be!"

Arya managed a very tight, thin smile. "…right. So. We need to start planning our attack."

Eragon stood up, looking puzzled. "Our attack on what?"  
"On the Bad Guys, of course!" Arya said. "They're finished!"

Elsewhere, Durza was banging on the door of the Evil Lair. "Galbatorix! Come on, we know you're there!"

The door opened a crack. "What do _you_ want, you traitor?"

"We've come to join the Bad Guys."

Hearing the word 'we', Galbatorix opened the door all the way. His jaw dropped. "You convinced _Brom_ join the Bad Guys!?"

"And Murtagh," Durza said. "But he's developed a chocolate addiction, so he's going to need some help."

Galbatorix's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you've _really_ come over to the Dark Side—I mean, the Bad Guys?"

Durza grinned a villainous grin. "I hate the Good Guys—they must be destroyed!"

"And you two?" Galbatorix said, turning to Brom and Murtagh.

"I'm with him," Brom said, pointing to Durza. "The Good Guys abandoned me!"

Murtagh just stood hunched over, drooling slightly. "Hey…have you got any chocolate?" he said, his eyes bloodshot.

Galbatorix shuddered. "Come inside…we've got some work to do."

Somewhere else entirely, Subieko was typing away. "Gee…it's getting kind of lonely in here. Maybe it's time to bring in some more characters. Let's see…"

Taking out a copy of Eldest, Subieko began paging through, writing down names in her notebook every so often.


	26. Traitor Part II

Author's Note: Errr...I meant to have Chapter 24 written and posted much sooner, but then I realized that there was more to chapter 23 than I had thought. So, here is chapter 23...part II. Ehehehe...I hope it turned out all right--it gave me no end of trouble to write. Next chapter we'll return to Eragon and Murtagh and Saphira, but for now...enjoy chapter 23--part II.

Chapter 23 Part II

"Didn't we already finish this chapter?" said Brom. He was sitting in Galbatorix's evil lair with Durza.

"It says part two. I guess that means it wasn't really finished," Durza said.

"So why didn't Subieko just put both parts into one chapter?"

Durza shrugged. "How should I know? Anyway, we have to start planning our assault on the Good Guys! I will have my revenge on Arya!"

Brom gulped. "Erm…are you sure that's such a good idea? Can't we all just…be friends, and get along?"

"What's this!?" Galbatorix said, stomping over. "A Bad Guy does _not_ want to be friends and get along! That goes against the very nature of the Bad Guys!"

Brom ducked his head. "Sorry, sir," he muttered.

"Just ignore him, Brom," Durza said.

"Ignore me—me!? Why, I—"

"Hey, has anyone seen Murtagh?" Durza said, following his own advice and ignoring Galbatorix. "I wanted to spar with him."

"Why?" Brom said.

"So I stay in practice, that's why! I'm a career soldier, I need to train. If you weren't so old, you would too."

Galbatorix rolled his eyes, or at least they thought he did behind the face mask of his helmet. "Murtagh's still recovering from his chocolate addiction. He's stopped hallucinating, but he's still violently ill."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning I'm going to need a few Urgals to get rid of the smell."

Durza gasped. "But—Urgals already smell! If they were going to get rid of a smell, it would have to be…"

"What did you expect?" said the King. "When the floor of a room is covered in vomit, it has a tendency to smell."

Brom grimaced. "That was really more information than I needed."

Durza and the King ignored him. Ignoring people was a key part of Bad Guy training. "So now who am I supposed to spar with?" Durza said.

At that moment, they heard a voice through the door. "Durza, I demand that you come out and fight me!" It was Eragon, who had come to punish Durza for temporarily turning Arya to the Dark Side.

Durza grinned a very, very evil grin. This grin was evil even for a Bad Guy. It would have made the most hardened criminal whimper. It was a grin that sent women, men, children, and small, fluffy animals fleeing in terror.

"This should be fun," he said.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya sighed and got up, brushing pine needles off her clothes. There was hardly any point, considering how filthy her prisoner's uniform was already, but it was a habit. She didn't really want to go back to where she and Durza were camped. Arya couldn't get the image of his face, totally impassive as he ripped out her fingernails and watched his men waterboarding her, out of her mind.

Arya had seen men die at her hands. She had seen their eyes filled with hate, with the desire to rip her limb from limb. She had seen the eyes of Durza's soldiers watching her, wanting her. Arya had no shame at feeling fear of them. She had fought past her fear, and had conquered it.

But Durza was more frightening. He had looked at her without any feeling at all. Arya would rather have had him take sadistic pleasure in tormenting her than just…watching. Watching as if he had no feelings at all, about anything.

She could run, if she wanted to. Arya could survive in the forest, she knew that. She didn't need to go back there. She didn't need to face him.

"How could anyone do those things?" Arya whispered to the stars. "How can anyone be so…cold?"

But something else came swimming up through her memories of pain. A cool touch on her face, breaking through her fever…someone holding her up, leading her out of a dark void.

She had been a prisoner. It would have been to Durza's advantage to leave her weak and helpless.

"…he's completely unbalanced," Arya said. "Even he probably doesn't know why he does anything."

Arya sighed and turned to head back. It was useless debating it—Arya knew she wouldn't run. She had to stay. To help the new dragon rider, of course.

Arya stepped into the small clearing. "There you are," Durza said. He had his back to her, unwrapping something. "Here—take these."

Turning, he held out her sword and bow. Arya took them, unable to say a word. She had expected never to see them again. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, she buckled on her sword and slung her quiver over her shoulder. She felt more secure now, more in control. She was in her own element again.

"Take these, too," Durza said, handing her a cloth bundle.

It was an Imperial uniform, such as a foot soldier would wear. "You don't have _my_ clothes?" Arya said. She wasn't eager to put on the symbols of her enemies.

"Your clothes were a mess," Durza said. "Besides, this is a better disguise. A soldier can go anywhere without suspicion. They may not fit quite right—the King doesn't take women into the army. This was the smallest uniform I could find."

Arya said nothing. Did he honestly expert her to strip and change her clothes in front of him?

But Durza turned to go. "Keep an eye on Rashid."

"Keep an eye on _what_?"

"Rashid. My horse."

(I don't need anyone to keep an eye on me! _I'll_ keep an eye on _her_.)

"Oh, shut up," Durza mumbled before vanishing into the trees.

Arya looked at the tall grey stallion that had trotted over to her. She reached out a hand to stroke his nose, but Rashid reared up, his eyes rolling. Arya took a hasty step back.

_"Shh…it's all right. I'm a friend—_"

(You are no friend of mine, elf.)

Arya jumped. Most animals responded to the Ancient Language, and especially to elves, but Rashid seemed much more alert and aware than was normal. "Is he really a horse?" she muttered to herself.

(What else would I be?)

"You—you understand normal speech? Not just the Ancient Language? But that's unheard of! A human's horse..."

Rashid tossed his head. (I am one of Tornac's horses. _We_ are no ordinary steeds.)

Arya took a step nearer. "Why do you stay with someone like him?"

(My master is a good man,) Rashid said. (Tornac thought so, too. What I want to know is why my master insists on taking you with us. If I had my way, we wouldn't have taken you from Gil'ead at all.)

"I understand why he hates me, but what about you? I haven't done anything to you."

Rashid snorted. (So you say.) He bent his head, hunting for sweeter grass.

Arya shook her head. The more time she spent with Durza, the more surreal this whole thing seemed. It was like knowing two identical twins who were polar opposites.

Pulling off her prison tunic, Arya put on the Imperial uniform. Durza was right—it didn't fit very well. She was forced to tear her prison tunic into strips to bind her chest, and she had to buckle the belt very tightly around her waist to keep the tunic from slipping. Even then, it was loose on her.

"Where did he go, anyway?" Arya said, glancing around.

(Probably to hunt,) Rashid said.

"To hunt what? He brought supplies, didn't he?"

(For you, because you don't eat meat. He never brings anything for himself.)

"…oh," Arya said. Digging through the packs Rashid had been carrying, she found some rations, the kind that soldiers carried. They were among the least desirable food she had ever eaten, but it was better than nothing. Then Arya leaned back against a tree. She fell into a light doze after a while.

Arya wasn't sure exactly what it was that awoke her. It wasn't a sound—Durza could move as silently as an elf when he wanted to. Perhaps it was some sense given to her by her magic, an awareness that such a powerful magician was near. She woke up to find Durza sitting across the clearing from her, pulling feathers out of his teeth.

It was such a bizarre image that for a moment Arya sat in silence, wondering if she had really awoken or if she was still dreaming. "What are you doing?" she finally said.

Durza looked up. "Nothing," he said, pulling out another feather. "I hate birds," he added casually, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to be talking about. "Too many feathers. Have you ever swallowed a feather?"

"…no," Arya said.

"Don't. It's not a pleasant experience."

"Most people eat birds without feathers," Arya said.

"Princess, elves may know of some featherless species of bird, but they're not too common around here," Durza said.

"I meant, you're supposed to take the feathers off the bird _before_ you eat it—wait. You eat things while they're still _alive_!?"

Durza shrugged. "Why not? I'm a predator. Strong night vision, good sense of hearing, good sense of smell, fangs…what else would I be?" He bared his teeth in a blood-stained grin, and Arya could see that his teeth did indeed taper to points, almost like a cat's.

"…you're disgusting," Arya said, looking away.

"To me, _you're_ disgusting."

Arya's eyes snapped back to him at once. "I am not!"

"Yes, you are. What kind of person only eats _plants_? It's unnatural."

"You're one to talk about unnatural. I simply refuse to desecrate life," Arya said, her lips in a thin, tight line.

Durza shrugged and fell silent. This seemed to be a habit of his, and it was starting irritate Arya. Every time she really got into her stride in an argument, he just dropped it.

"Do you want to take first watch, or should I?" Arya said, swallowing her irritation.

"We don't need a watch—I can just set wards."

Arya opened her mouth to ask what wards were, then closed it again. She was a fully-trained magician, and she would not ask this _Shade_ to explain any aspect of magic to her.

_Probably some dark magic anyway_, Arya thought. _They say Galbatorix learned his dark powers from a Shade, after all._

After setting the wards—at least that was what Arya supposed he was doing—Durza lay down and, as far as Arya could tell, fell asleep. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted this, however. Although she was exhausted, Arya couldn't allow herself to sleep. It would leave her defenseless, and only a fool would trust a Shade.

It wasn't easy to stay awake, but Arya managed it. She sat up, making herself as uncomfortable as she could, pinching herself whenever she started to doze off.

Arya shivered. It would be a long night.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Are you _sure_ this is north?" Durza said for the fourth time.

Rashid's ears flipped back to lay flat against his head. (Yes, I am. Have I ever lead you astray before?)

"There's always a first time."

(You know I won't fail you.)

Durza patted the horse's neck fondly. Rashid had never gotten him lost, although Durza had gotten both of them lost on occasion.

Arya listened to this conversation without paying much attention. She was starting to regret her refusal to sleep. Despite the jolts of the road, she found herself nodding off more than once. But she would be fine. She would just shut her eyes for a little while, and then she would feel more rested…

"…Princess?" Durza said, raising an eyebrow. Arya had fallen asleep, leaning back against Durza's chest.

(Better keep an eye on her—she'll fall.)

"She's an elf, they always land on their feet."

(Don't say I didn't warn you.)

Durza sighed. It was going to be a long trip. Holding the reins in one hand, he put one arm around Arya's waist. To keep her from falling, of course.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Galbatorix sighed, digging his hand into the bowl of popcorn. It was almost empty. "You—go make some more popcorn," he said to a random Urgal. The Urgal ran off to do his bidding at once. Galbatorix nodded, smiling. It was good to be King.

Well, it was good to be Insane Dictator of the Evil Empire. But that was all semantics anyway.

"I can't believe they're still going at it," Brom said, sitting down next to the King.

Galbatorix snorted. "Durza's just toying with him—the idiot doesn't stand a chance."

"Which idiot?" Brom muttered. But he was careful not to say it loud enough for Galbatorix to hear.

Next to Brom, Murtagh turned over in his sleep, snoring. Brom patted his head, pulling the blankets around Murtagh more securely.

"I think he's mostly recovered," Brom whispered. "Just needs some rest."

"Whatever," Galbatorix said, not bothering to keep his voice down. "He was never much of a minion anyway."

"I—pant, pant—will beat you—pant, pant—yet, Durza!" Eragon said, gripping Zar'roc tightly. His palms were sweating inside his gauntlets.

Durza rolled his eyes. "Sure you will," he said, easily parrying yet another blow from Eragon. He had been hoping for a fun duel, but Eragon was too easy to beat. Durza was keeping the battle going as long as he could, but it was hard when Eragon made so many stupid decisions.

In fact, he had just made another one—he charged Durza, holding Zar'roc high over his head. Durza kicked him in the shins and sheathed his sword with a sigh.

Eragon got to his feet again, glaring at Durza. "That was a cheap trick."

Durza shrugged. "I got bored."

"Grr...I'll make you pay for what you did to Arya, you fiend!"

"What _I_ did to _her_? She's going to pay for what she did to _me_!" Durza cried. "I will have my revenge!"

Eragon frowned. "It's weird—that's what Arya keeps saying."

Galbatorix's eyebrows shot up. "Durza…"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Is there something going on here I should know about?"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Durza said. "I just want revenge! I want to destroy the Good Guys completely and utterly! What's so wrong about that?"

Galbatorix nodded. "Excellent, Durza…that's just the kind of proactive attitude we need here with the Bad Guys. Gather my minions—we must start planning our attack on the Good Guys at once!"

Meanwhile, in another room, Subieko was grinning a fiendish grin. It was a skill she had picked up from Durza. Stretching her fingers, she gazed down at her PC screen.

"Okay, guys…come join the fun!"

And suddenly, several more voices were heard.


	27. Across the Ramr

Author's Note: Ack, this update was slow, and it's only a short chapter! I hope it's enjoyable, all the same. This chapter features Eragon, Murtagh, and Saphira, and it is dedicated to the wonderful writers of the A Novel Idea lj community, who have helped with SO much with the plot of this story. Thanks, guys!

Next chapter will have Murtagh, Eragon, and Saphira as well. Enjoy!

Chapter 24: Across the Ramr

Arya paced the Good Guy's stronghold, waiting for Eragon to return. He had dashed off to challenge Durza to a duel. Behind Arya, Saphira was asleep.

There was a faint knock at the door. "Who is it?" Arya said.

A muffled groan was the only answer. Arya opened the door a crack and saw Eragon huddled on the floor, covered in bruises. His nose was bleeding rather heavily.

"I told you that was a stupid idea," Arya said, dragging Eragon inside and laying him on the couch. She handed him a tissue. "Pinch your nose and wait for it to stop bleeding."

Eragon nodded. "Durza said to gib you dis." He held out a small piece of paper.

Arya read it quickly. "To the Good Guys: we will vanquish you as Durza vanquished your champion! Prepare for annihilation! Oh, and if you have any spare flour, could you please send us some? Brom is baking a cake and has run out. Sincerely, Galbatorix."

Saphira opened one eye. _…that was a villainous threat?_

Arya shrugged. "I guess so. I suppose we'll have to wait for Eragon to recover before we go challenge them."

Arya waited for a whole five minutes before she got bored and started pacing. After another ten minutes, she checked the clock on the wall. After half an hour, Arya was fed up.

"You two are so _boring_! Hanging out with Durza, Brom, and Murtagh was much more interesting that _this_!"  
_  
So go join the villains if you think they're so interesting_, Saphira said, closing her eyes again.

"Well maybe I will!" Arya muttered through gritted teeth, stomping out of the room.

Meanwhile, in the Bad Guy's lair, Durza sat at a cluttered table, playing with a yo-yo. Unfortunately he wasn't very good at it, and kept dropping it.

"Would you stop that?" Brom said. "You're distracting me!"

"You aren't even _doing_ anything," Durza said, sighing.

"It's not my fault I ran out of flour. We should send someone to Subieko to get some more…"

"Sounds boring," Durza said. "Why are the Bad Guys so dull!? It was much more interesting when me and you and Arya and Murtagh were hanging out."

"Well go join the Good Guys if you think this is so dull," Brom said, turning back to his cookbook.

"Well maybe I will!" Durza said, tucking his yo-yo into his pocket and walking out.

"And get some flour while you're up, will you?" Brom called after him. But Durza didn't hear him. Sighing, Brom glanced at Murtagh, who was curled up asleep in an armchair. "I hate to wake him, but…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon stifled a yawn. He and Murtagh had been riding for what felt like years, although judging by the moon's position, it was probably more like two hours or so.

_Almost there?_ Saphira said, her eyes fluttering shut.

Eragon shrugged. _I don't know._ "Um…Murtagh…where are we going?"

Murtagh glanced back. "We need to cross the river—there's an old bridge this way. We're nearly there."

Eragon nodded, and a silence fell between them again. Eragon was burning with curiosity about Murtagh, but he felt shy of the older boy, and didn't quite dare to ask him anything about himself.

"Here we are," Murtagh said. Eragon saw an expanse of dark water glimmering in the moonlight. He realized that he had been hearing the soft rushing of the river for hours now without even noticing.

Murtagh swung down from Tornac. "We'd better cross on foot—it might be tricky in the dark," he said, leading the horse towards the narrow bridge. It was just wide enough for them to cross in single file.

Eragon swallowed hard and got down from his own horse. The bridge looked awfully old, and awfully rickety. Eragon could see gaps in the planks at some points, and some of the planks looked rotten.

"How old did you say this bridge was, again?"

"I didn't," Murtagh said. "And I'm not sure how old it is…it was built ages ago, though, there's a newer one now. No one uses this one anymore—it's perfect."

Eragon nodded, forcing a smile. "Perfect." He steadied Saphira on his shoulder and started forward.

"You first," Murtagh said. "Don't worry—if you slip, I'm right behind you, so I can grab you."

"Good," Eragon said. "I can't swim."

The boards creaked under their feet as the group slowly made its way across the little bridge. The walk seemed to go on for an eternity, and Eragon's heart squeezed painfully at every groan of the aged wood. But at last, he was on the far bank of the river, his horse and Saphira beside him.

"Go on, Tornac," Murtagh said, patting his horse. Tornac crossed to the other shore to wait with Eragon's horse, and Murtagh followed behind.

It happened so quickly that Eragon couldn't understand what was going on at first. One moment Murtagh's pale face was before him, and the next it was gone in a crunching of timber.

"Murtagh!" Eragon shouted, and without a moment's thought, he flung himself into the river and groped for Murtagh's arm.

The icy water shocked Eragon, bringing him fully awake. It dragged at his clothes and stung his eyes, tumbling him end over end. Eragon grabbed one of the bridge's supports, and winced as the rough wood scraped his hand. But at least he was anchored.

Eragon's hand touched fabric, and he clamped his fingers down, fighting to pull Murtagh towards him. But the current was too strong—Murtagh was being pulled away, downstream—Eragon redoubled his grip on the support post—

And then the water tore his hand away from the post, and Eragon was slammed into the support post on the opposite side of the bridge. Lights flashed behind his eyes, and he let out a gasp. Water was flooding into his mouth, cold and heavy, his lungs were burning, screaming for air, in his mind he could hear Saphira's cries of distress, but all that mattered was the sleeve he was holding onto with all his might, he must not let go, he must not let Murtagh drown—

It seemed darker under the water to Eragon, and his body felt strangely sluggish. He felt lightheaded…and suddenly the fabric was yanked from his fingers.

_No!_ Eragon thought, forcing his body to move. He pushed off the support post and struck out blindly into the murky waters, flailing his hands about, trying to find Murtagh again—he felt himself rushing away, he was lost in a world of whispers and soft touches of current and cold and the heavy weight of the water—

His lungs were truly on fire now, the world was growing dim—

And then everything went dark.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Shh—calm down, you crazy dragon, he'll be fine!" Murtagh said, fending Saphira off for the fifth time. The little dragon was desperate to get near Eragon, but Murtagh didn't want the boy to be disturbed yet. Eragon needed rest, after his close escape in the river.

Tornac was lying down near the fire, and Murtagh leaned back against him, throwing on some more wood. Eragon was wrapped in every spare cloak and blanket the two of them had between them, as close to the fire as was safe. Hopefully that would stave off illness.

"At least we made it across," Murtagh said, closing his eyes with a sigh. Every muscle in his body ached. It had been a hard fight to pull Eragon out of the water—the current was strong, and Murtagh had been horribly cold by that time, his hands slow and clumsy. Once Eragon had fainted, his dead weight had been even harder to drag to the bank.

"Without you we would've been dead," Murtagh said, patting Tornac's neck. The horse had come as close to the riverbank as he could, lowering his head so Murtagh could grab onto his bridle. Tornac had pulled first Eragon, then Murtagh out of the river.

Murtagh fell a nudge on his hand, and he opened his eyes. Saphira was crouched beside him, her wings drooping, her head low.

"Don't worry…he'll be all right," Murtagh said, reaching out a hand to pat the little dragon.

Saphira hissed, pulling back.

"Sorry—didn't realize," Murtagh said, dropping his hand. They sat in silence for a moment more, watching the fire. Then Saphira slowly crept closer. With a soft cheep, she crawled into Murtagh's lap and curled up for a nap.

Murtagh's thin face broke into a smile. "Poor thing," he murmured, stroking Saphira's neck. "You must be worried sick about him.

Murtagh felt something nudge his mind—a vague sense of agreement. "Gods—was that _you_!?" he cried, sitting up and knocking Saphira out of his lap.

Saphira shook herself all over, growling. Another nudge of agreement.

"Get out of my head," Murtagh whispered, trembling. "_Get out of my head_! My mind is _mine_—no one else's!"

Saphira threw him one last dirty look and padded over to curl up beside Eragon. She bit his ear, and he stirred, groaning.

"Wh…where am I…what happened…? …Murtagh!" Eragon struggled to sit up.

"It's all right!" Murtagh said, pushing him back. "Lie still, you nearly drowned! You idiot—what possessed you to jump in after me like that!?"

Eragon lay back, blushing. "Well—you could have drowned."

"I know how to swim. You don't."

Eragon hung his head. "I…forgot."

"You forgot," Murtagh said. "You _forgot_ that you can't swim. You almost _died_!"

Eragon bit his lip.

"But…you saved my life. …thanks."

Eragon looked up again. "I…it's nothing, I—it's no big deal. You would've done the same thing for me."

Murtagh raised his eyebrows. "Are you so sure?"

"Of course," Eragon said, looking at him blankly. "We're working together now, right? We're…friends, aren't we?"

Murtagh stared into the fire. "…friends," he said slowly, as though trying the word for the first time. "Friends. Yeah…I like the sound of that. Now go back to sleep," he added, shoving Eragon lightly.

Eragon grinned. "All right, all right! Sheesh, you almost drown _one time_…"

Murtagh managed to keep a stern expression on his face for a full minute before he broke down laughing. Saphira hummed gently to herself, looking pleased. She and her rider had found a good friend.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Durza stopped short, halfway down the hall. "What are _you_ doing here?" he said, glaring at Arya.

"I could ask you the same question!" Arya said, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm going to join the Good Guys," Durza said with a smug smile.

Arya blinked. "You…are? That's funny—I was just going to join the Bad Guys."

"What!? Why?" Durza asked.

Arya shuffled her feet, blushing slightly. "I was…er…bored."

Durza coughed. "…me too."

There was an awkward silence. "So…um…did Brom ever get his flour?" Arya said.

Durza shook his head. "No…he's pretty down about it. He can't finish his cake without it, you know. Hey…!"

"What?"

Durza shrugged. "Oh…nothing. I was just thinking…since I don't have anything to do, and you don't have anything to do…we should go get Brom some more flour."

Arya frowned. "Well—we can't just leave him with a half-finished cake. It just wouldn't be right."

"My point exactly," Durza said. "Of course I could do it myself—"

"As could I—"

"—but since you're bored…"

Arya pursed her lips, considering the suggestion. "…we never tell _anyone_ that I agree to this."

"Or that I suggested this," Durza added, holding out his hand.

Arya nodded, shaking it. "Deal. Now where does Subieko keep her flour…?"

And so the two set off down a different hallway entirely, beginning the great Quest for the Flour.


	28. Breaking the Barrier

Author's Note: At last, is letting me upload documents again! And now, the long-awaited next chapter...well, short-awaited, I suppose. But anyway! Murtagh, Eragon, and Saphira's adventures continue! Oh, and the title of the chapter...meh, it's not that good. I had a hard time thinking up a title for this one. Basically, it's supposed to be that they break the barrier to the desert by solving their water problem, and Murtagh and Eragon are breaking the barrier between them. Eh...it'll do. Next chapter will be a whole bunch of new characters--Angela, Solembum, and Nasuada hit the scene! Enjoy!

Chapter 25: Breaking the Barrier

Durza and Arya wandered Subieko's basement, searching for the flour. They had found a lot of other things, but nothing even remotely edible yet.

"This thing is pretty fun," Durza said, rewinding his yo-yo. "You should look for one of these."

"Would you _focus_?" Arya said, rummaging through a large plastic bin. "We're supposed to be looking for flour!"

"Ooo—what's this?" Durza said, totally ignoring Arya and picking up what looked like a flat box with two knobs. "Etch-a-Sketch…oooo, Arya, look, it's so cool!"

Arya rubbed her temples. "Durza, would you stop playing with that and help me look!?"

"_Fine_," Durza said, tucking the Etch-a-Sketch into his backpack. He had found the backpack during their search as well, and kept it by claiming that they needed something to put the flour in.

Arya sighed. "This basement is a mess—how could anyone find something down here?"

Durza shrugged. "It's easy—you just wander around until you decide it's hopeless. That's what I always do when the King asks me to find things."

"That may be why he didn't give you health benefits."

"Someday, the proletariat will rise up, and you'll all be sorry!" Durza said. "Earning benefits…hmph."

"Does she actually keep flour in her basement?"

"Don't ask me," Durza said. "Maybe we should have just asked Subieko where the flour is."

"Then we would have had to tell her why we wanted it, and that we were defecting from the Good Guys and the Bad Guys again, and she would have told everyone else," Arya said.

"…oh. Right. So where do we search next?"

"Maybe I can tell you," said a new voice, one Arya and Durza didn't recognize. A small form appeared from between the piles of junk. It was a child of perhaps four or so, with stringy dark hair and a knowing smirk.

"Wait…Elva?" Arya said. "What are you doing here? You're not in Eragon. Well, just a cameo anyway."

Elva shrugged. "I was needed."

"How come your voice sounds like an adult's?" Durza said. "Are you a midget?"

Elva rolled her violet eyes and pushed back her bangs, revealing the silvery dragon mark on her forehead.

"What, your head got burned or something?" Durza said.

Arya elbowed him in the ribs. "She was cursed by Eragon, you idiot, she's compelled to stop people from getting hurt!"

"When did that happen?"

"When Eragon was at the Varden in the first book."

"Before I died?"

"Yes."

"_What_!?" Durza cried. "Why didn't she save _me_? This is totally unfair! It's always the Good Guys who get all the deus ex machina!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Oh just come on, you big baby, let's get back to looking for the flour...we don't need Elva's help, she'll just vomit all over everything."

Arya grabbed Durza's arm and dragged him off to the next room, leaving Elva standing in the midst of the cluttered basement, frowning.

"What was _that_ all about?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Wow…" Eragon breathed, gazing out across the Hadarac Desert. He had never seen anything like it in his life. The sun was setting, and it turned the sands to molten gold as its rays flowed over the dunes. Eragon had never seen the horizon so clearly; it almost looked like the sky and the ground touched, and if he walked too far, he would bang into them like a wall.

"Never seen the desert, huh?" Murtagh said. He smiled when Eragon nodded fervently, unable to take his eyes off the sands.

_We're going to cross that?_ Saphira asked.

Eragon nodded. "Yeah…I hope. Murtagh, is there water in the desert? And food? Or do we have to carry it all with us?"

"There are oases, but we'd need a guide to find them. If we want to make it through the desert, we'll have to carry any water we need. So let's figure out how much we _can_ carry—then we'll know how long we can stay in the desert. It'll be harder to search for us there, so the longer we can stay, the better…it'll give us a better chance of reaching the Varden. At least, based on the directions you gave me—I don't know the Beor Mountains very well."

Eragon nodded, and they started a count. It soon became obvious that they were in trouble. "Murtagh, there's no way we can carry enough water for us _and_ the horses, _and_ food _and_ everything else. What do we do?"

Murtagh furrowed his brow, flopping down on the grass. "I don't know. We could go around the desert, but they'll be able to find us too easily…"

_What about us?_ Saphira said. _Can't we find water?_

"How?" Eragon said.

_Call for it. Brom said you can talk to anything—why not water?_

Eragon frowned. "I don't know…Murtagh, you said something about oases. What are they?"

"They're these sort of little lakes or springs in the desert."

"Where does the water come from?"

"Well—from the ground, I suppose," Murtagh said.

Eragon started to grin. _Saphira, you might be right! Come on—help me try it._

The two of them ran to the edge of the desert sands. Eragon lay flat on the ground, his ear pressed against the sand. _"Water?"_ he called. _"Water, can you hear me?"_

Murtagh followed him, staring. Eragon was speaking to the ground. And calling it water. The strain must have gotten to him. Murtagh was about to pull Eragon to his feet and tell him to lie down for a bit, when something extraordinary happened.

Water was bubbling up from the ground. It was trickling from under Eragon's fingers, flowing out of the sand. Eragon was smiling, although he looked tired. _"Thank you,"_ he whispered. _"You've helped us so, so much."_

Murtagh gently pulled Eragon to a sitting position, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Eragon…what…"

"Magic," Eragon said, smiling. "I asked the water to come to the surface so we could drink it, and it did. Murtagh, we can get through the desert now!"

Murtagh sat back on his heals, taking deep, steadying breaths. "…huh. I've seen magic before, but not quite like that!"

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked. Saphira chirped a questioning note as well.

"It's just—you didn't say any spells, or…or conjure anything up, or anything. You just…talked to it."

Eragon frowned. "Brom said that's what magic was, really."

Murtagh nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that too, but I've never seen water just do what someone said!"

"I just asked it," Eragon said. "I mean, I told it that we couldn't get through the desert without water, and we would die without it, and all, and, well…it agreed to help us. That's all."

Murtagh shook his head. "That's all, he says. Eragon…never mind. Let's get some rest—you look exhausted, you'll need to be at full strength before you try that spell or whatever it was again."

Eragon grimaced. "I'm sorry…I'm slowing you down."

"Don't even think it," Murtagh said firmly. "Without you, I'd still be in prison. You saved my life. Well, you tried to save my life anyway. Using that kind of power—of course you're worn out."

"Let's start riding," Eragon said. "I can rest on the road—I'll be fine!"

Saphira hissed. _You need rest—you're tired!_

Eragon shook his head. "Saphira, really, I'll be fine!"

Murtagh shrugged. "If you say so. Come on, then—let's get going."

They mounted their horses and set out, the sand muffling their hoof beats.

_Hey…Saphira?_ Eragon said. _I've been wondering this for a while, but…when you say 'you', it always sounds sort of weird. Why is that?_

_Weird?_

_I don't know—like it isn't just the word 'you'. Like it's something else._

_It just means 'you.'_

Even as she said it, however, Eragon could still hear the difference in his mind. It was more…_personal_ than he had ever heard the word used before. There was a sense of powerful emotion behind it, possessiveness, protectiveness, and a fierce sense of…love.

_Because it's you_, Saphira said, feeling his train of thought. _When 'you' is Eragon, it's different from any other 'you.'_

Eragon was speechless for a moment. When he finally found his voice again, he couldn't think of what to say. So he just hugged Saphira tightly instead, holding back happy tears.

Murtagh glanced at them. He assumed they were speaking somehow, although he couldn't hear it. Seeing their closeness, their happiness, he had to look away. Murtagh had never experienced that. Even when he was young, there was always a shadow of fear hanging over everything he did, and everyone around him.

Then Eragon looked up. "Hey—Murtagh? Where do you come from, anyway?" Murtagh's eyes took on a guarded look, and Eragon faltered. "I—I mean…it's just, if we're going to travel together, we shouldn't be strangers…right?"

There was a pause, but at the end Eragon was rewarded with a smile. "All right, but…you first."

Eragon laughed. "Sheesh…fine. I come from Carvahall, in Palancar Valley…"

They rode on through the night, talking about their lives. Eragon quickly told Murtagh everything about his past—his Uncle Garrow and his cousin Roran—although of course they weren't _really_ related to him at all—and how Roran was going to marry Katrina, and how Roran was going to be a miller. He told Murtagh about Brom and his stories, and the appearance of the egg, and the Ra'zac, and his journey to Gil'ead.

Murtagh felt a squirm of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He almost wanted to tell Eragon not to be so trusting, but it had been a long time since someone trusted had Murtagh like that. Murtagh only wished he could tell Eragon about his own past. It weighed on him, his secret, like a millstone around his neck.

But he couldn't tell Eragon. Eragon would hate him—maybe even attack him. No…better to appear cold and untrusting than—that. Anything was better than being seen like that.

"I come from Uru'baen," Murtagh said slowly, carefully working out what he would say. "I was born to a…noble family—part of the King's court."

"Wow," Eragon said. "I've never met a—a _noble_ before."

Murtagh forced a smile, although inside his stomach was twisting in knots. If Eragon knew the truth, he wouldn't sound nearly so impressed. "It's no big deal—I'm proud of my skill with a sword, not of my blood."

"Yeah…I guess you're right," Eragon said, laughing easily. "Anyway, how did you end up in prison?"

"I…always hated the King—the Empire. My mother died when I was young, as did my father, and the King kept me on as a ward. I promised myself that as soon as I was strong enough, I would get out of there. Unfortunately, I was caught…and that's when you found me. Now I'm finally free."

Eragon's smile faded. "Murtagh…that's terrible—you having to live like that, when you didn't want to. I'm…I'm glad you're with us now."

Murtagh coughed, fidgeting. "Ah—I can't stand this sentimental talk. Let's get going!" He nudged Tornac into a canter.

"Wait—I don't how to do tha—ahhh!" Eragon said, as his horse (he had said his name was Makar) followed suit. He clung on for dear life as Saphira cackled happily, and they raced on towards the heart of the desert.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Is _this_ flour?" Arya said, holding up a bag of baking soda.

"I don't know," Durza said, peering at it. "It's white, and powdery…that's just like flour, right?"

"I guess," Arya said. "Come on, let's get this to Brom."

"Yeah," Durza said. "I wonder if it's bad for cake to sit around while you look for flour?"

"Why would it be?" Arya said. "I'm sure it's fine."

"Do you know how to cook?" Durza asked cautiously.

"No. What does that have to do with it?"

"…nothing," Durza said, taking out his yo-yo again.

"Tell me what you meant!" Arya said, stamping her foot.

"I_ said_, nothing!" Durza said. "Ouch—what're you hitting me for?"

"Because you were definitely insulting me. I can tell," Arya said. "Now come on—and stop playing with that stupid yo-thing!"

"Yo-yo," Durza mumbled. "And it's not stupid! Ow—fine, I'll stop already…hmph."

As they vanished up the stairs, Elva poked her head out from behind a cabinet, a little grin on her face. "Oh, Nasuada's going to have a field day when I tell her about _this_."


	29. The City on the Sea

Author's Note: A fast update this time! Here it is--the entrance of Angela, Solembum, Nasuada, Elva, and Orik (and Ajihad, too, but I feel like he's not as anticipated as the others). And about the title--the city on the sea is Terim. I realize that the chapter doesn't have that much to do with Terim, but, well, the title sounded good, so...yeah. (laughs)

Next chapter will be Arya and Durza...not sure how soon it'll be out. Enjoy!

Chapter 26: The City on the Sea

Brom clapped his hands, delighted. "Durza—you went to find me some flour?" Then he saw who _else_ had come in with Durza. "Wait—Arya!? What are you doing here?"

Arya shrugged. "I thought I might join the Bad Guys. The Good Guys were getting a little dull."

"Don't let Galbatorix hear you say that," Brom said. "I don't know what he would say if he heard of an _elf_ wanting to join the _Bad Guys_…"

"Like I care what he thinks," Arya said. "Anyway, there's your flour."

"Thank you very much," Brom said. "Hang around for a while—you can have some of the cake."

"Not me," Durza said. "I'm going to go see what Subieko is up to." He left the Villainous Lair, shutting the door behind him.

"Wait for me!" Arya said, flinging the door open again and running off.

Brom shook his head. "Kids these days…always rushing about. Now, let's get this cake ready to go!" He poured in the baking soda and began stirring.

Meanwhile, Subieko was staring glumly at her PC screen. "You know, I was hoping you guys would actually help with the story!"

Nasuada scowled. "You still haven't explained what's going on, Miss…?"  
"Subieko. And there's no need for the 'miss.'"

"Whatever," Nasuada said. "The point is, we've suddenly been dragged here—wherever here _is_—for reasons unknown, and I want to know what's happening! I'm responsible for the welfare of the Varden!"

"Well, you see—" Subieko began, but before she could continue, the door burst open, and Durza and Arya walked in.

"Hey, Subieko, me and Arya were just talking to Brom and—wait. Where did all these people come from?" Durza looked around, seeing a dark-skinned girl with a frown on her face, a plump woman with curly red hair, and a scowling dwarf.

Arya's jaw dropped. "Nasuada? Angela? Orik? What are you all doing here?"

Subieko grinned. "I brought them! You guys were busy, and it was getting kind of lonely, so…"

"You were lonely?" Durza said. "Sorry…"

"Ah, that's okay," Subieko said, hugging Durza and Arya. "But now that you're here, help me with this next chapter—I'm not sure who it should be about!"

"Wait just a minute!" Nasuada said. "What is going on here!?"

Arya sat down next to Nasuada. "It's like this…" The two were soon deep in conversation, discussing everything that had happened to the characters. Meanwhile, Elva sidled up to Subieko and Durza.

"Oh, Subieko…know what _I_ saw?"

"What did you see, Elva?" Subieko said, patting the child's head.

"I saw Arya and Durza hanging out together. In the basement. They were _getting along_."

"Really!?" Subieko said.

"That is completely not true!" Durza said. "We were looking for flour for Brom, and we weren't getting along at all!"

Elva shrugged, a knowing smile on her face. "That's what _you_ say. But I think—"

Durza clapped a hand over Elva's mouth. "Subieko, why don't you write the next chapter about some of the new characters?"

Subieko nodded, gazing at her PC screen. "Hmm…yeah, there's an idea! No time to talk—I've got a chapter to write!" With that, she began pounding away at the keys.

"Phew…" Durza said, letting go of Elva. "And stop bothering Subieko while she's writing!"

Elva scampered off towards the other characters. "Fine—but I'm telling Nasuada about you and Arya!"

"There's nothing to tell!" Durza said. But it was no use. Elva, like most of the other characters, completely ignored him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The witch lived in a pretty cottage with flowers in the windows and a door painted robin's-egg blue. She lived in the nicest part of the city, next to the wealthy merchants and the nobles. On fine mornings she would sit outside her door on a comfortable chair and work on esoteric theories.

All the mothers in Terim told their children to stay away from the witch. They didn't trust her powers—who knew what a woman like that might be capable of? She was so odd—she had never married, she lived alone with her cat, and she dabbled in dark magic, or so the stories said.

This didn't stop them from going to her to get their fortunes told, of course. No one, man or woman, could resist the allure of catching a glimpse of the future. Who they would fall in love with, who would be their enemies, even when they would die—the people of Terim were endlessly fascinated by the witch's powers.

The witch's name was Angela, and she found this all terribly amusing. Today she was sitting outside her shop, which was also her home, and where she sold various herbal remedies and told fortunes. Angela was scribbling away on a sheaf of parchment, her quill pen clutched in one hand and a fat toad in the other. At her feet dozed a large, shaggy-furred black cat.

"Bad omens of late," Angela remarked, putting her quill down for a moment to tie back her curly red hair.

The black cat rolled over, stretching. _Maybe. Or maybe just coincidence._

"Coincidence! I don't believe in such things. No, it's omens we're seeing, Solembum. And our dear neighbor is in quite a predicament, isn't he? Lovely word—predicament."

Solembum got to his paws, arching his back. _Did you wake me up just to discuss old Jeod? Because if you did, I'm going back to sleep._

"Of course I didn't, silly. I woke you up because you're getting awfully chubby, snoozing all day. And anyway, I wanted to talk to you."

_I know what you're thinking about, and I say it's a bad idea. What have they got to do with us, I ask you?_

Angela shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I'm rather fond of them, myself. And I do like Nasuada, at least."

_Yes, but her father is an idiot._

"You think everyone is an idiot."

_Well, they are, compared to me_.

Angela's lips twitched. "Maybe. But honestly, Solembum—what _do_ you think we should do?"

Solembum yawned and curled up on the warm paving stones again. _You're going whether I want to or not, and you know perfectly well I'll be coming along. And I suppose I would like to see how it works out, in the end—it's not every day you find a future _this_ tangled._

"Tangled is right," Angela said. "Gnarled. Befuddled. Ambiguous—"

_Enough, enough! I get the idea. Now go back to your toad and leave me in peace to nap—I've just found the perfect sunbeam._

Angela shook her head, going back to her writing. "It's a frog, you know," she said, although she knew Solembum was already asleep. "Toads don't exist. I've nearly proved it."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Nasuada paced her chambers, her brow furrowed. A little girl, perhaps ten years old, sat curled up on Nasuada's bed, watching her. The room was small, and Nasuada had to stay slightly bent forward to keep from scraping her head on the ceiling; the room was made to dwarven proportions, not human.

Nasuada flopped down on the bed, running a hand through her long, thick black hair. The little girl put a hand on her shoulder, frowning.

"I'm fine, Elva," Nasuada said, managing a smile for the pale, skinny girl. "I'm just worried. You've heard about the message?"

Elva shook her head, her green eyes wide. Nasuada stroked her stringy black hair gently, reassuring the girl.

"The Varden's spies have finally managed to get a message to my father…Lady Arya has been taken to Uru'baen by General Durza. I wish there was something I could _do_! She's my friend—I can't bear to think of trapped in the King's dungeons, all alone…not even knowing if we're looking for her. Which we aren't, right now."

Elva tipped her head to the side, her small forehead creased by a frown. She gave Nasuada a questioning look.

"You want to know why?" Nasuada asked. Elva never spoke, so it was sometimes difficult to figure out what she wanted. The girl's grandmother had raised her, but now that she was dead, Nasuada kept an eye on Elva. She had grown quite fond of her.

Elva nodded.

"My father says we have no chance of rescuing her from Uru'baen…and I know he's right. I just…I don't know. I wish there was more I could do for the Varden. And we have no idea what happened to the egg. Father says we just have to hope Arya got it to safety before she was captured…"

There was a knock at the door. "Lady Nasuada?"

Nasuada sat up and straightened her dress. As the daughter of the Varden's leader, she had to maintain an image at all times, one of strength and composure. A quick glance in the mirror on the wall showed her a smooth brown face, getting a little thin of late perhaps, and thick hair flowing down her back. Her expression was neutral. She was ready to face whoever might be at the door.

"Come in," Nasuada called. The door opened to reveal a stocky, muscular man who nearly came up to Nasuada's shoulder. A long, fox-colored beard fell to his waist in braids, and his eyes were kind. He was Orik, one of the dwarves.

"Sir Orik—what are you doing here?" Nasuada asked, surprised. Orik worked under both her father, Ajihad, and his own king, Hrothgar, so he was usually quite busy. Nasuada had met him once or twice, but she didn't know him well.

"Your father sends for you. I was just meeting with him, and as I had no further duties, he asked me to bring you the message."

"Thank you, Sir Orik. I'll come right away," Nasuada said, getting up at once. Elva hopped up as well. "No, you stay here, Elva—I'll be back soon." Nasuada gave the girl a quick hug, then hurried after Orik.

"Has there been news, Sir Orik?" she said as they walked.

A broad smile spread across Orik's face. "No need to call me Sir, Lady Nasuada. And yes, there has, but I'll leave it to your father to tell you."

Nasuada nodded and sped up. They quickly passed through the stone halls and caverns of Tronjheim, the city of the dwarves, into her father's audience chamber. Lord Ajihad looked up as they entered. His long hair, as dark as his daughter's, was tied back in many small braids, and his face was lined with wrinkles. Many said that leading the Varden had made Ajihad old before his time.

"My dear Nasuada," Ajihad said, smiling. "I have some news I thought you'd to know—about Lady Arya."

"What is it?" Nasuada said, sitting down in one of the chairs arranged around the broad stone table.

"She's not in Uru'baen."

"What!? Where is she? Have they found her—is she all right?"

Ajihad raised his hands. "Slow down, slow down! We don't know where she is yet. Our spies in Uru'baen simply report that she hasn't arrived yet, and neither has the King's General. In fact, from what rumors they've been able to pick up, neither of them is actually expected at the capital."

Nasuada frowned. "But then…why did our spies in Gil'ead say that's where they were headed? And if Durza wasn't taking Arya to Uru'baen…where was he going?"

"I don't know," Ajihad said, sighing. "We must pray that she is safe. At least we know she isn't in the King's hands."

Nasuada slammed her fist down on the table, wincing slightly—that would surely leave a bruise. "That might be worse! The King may be unjust, and selfish, and cruel—"

Ajihad hid a smile behind his hand. His daughter was never shy of saying what she felt.

"—but at least he's still _human_." Thinking of Orik, Nasuada shook her head. "I mean, at least he's still a—a person. Now all we know is that Arya has been taken _somewhere_ by a Shade—a monster! Who knows what he might do to her?"

"Arya is a skilled warrior," Ajihad said, resting a gentle hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I'm sure she'll find her way back to us. Perhaps our spies will hear something more soon, hm?"

Nasuada forced a smile. "…I hope so, Papa. Gods…please let her be all right," she whispered.

Ajihad nodded, but couldn't speak. The two of them sat together for a while, taking some comfort. At least they still had each other—plenty of the Varden didn't have even that, like poor Elva.

"Someday things will change," Ajihad said. "Gods willing, we will live to see that day. And so will Arya. She will be found, sweetheart. She'll be all right. We all will."

Nasuada nodded, although she knew that wasn't true. Few, if any, of them would see a brighter future…and if the King had taken the dragon egg back from Arya, then there would be no brighter future at all.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brom smiled broadly, pulling his finished cake out of the oven. It had spilled out of the pan and had become a somewhat gooey mess, but that didn't bother Brom in the least. Cake was probably supposed to look like that. "All right," he called. "Who wants some?"

Murtagh groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Is that…_chocolate_ cake!?"

Brom nodded with a sad smile. "Yes, Murtagh…go ahead. I suppose it can't harm you any worse."

Grabbing the plate Brom handed him, Murtagh scurried off to shadowed corner where no one could steal his beloved piece of chocolate cake. Meanwhile, the other characters gathered around for some. Brom had gotten Galbatorix to agree to a temporary truce so that Eragon and Saphira could have some cake as well. Raising their forks, they all popped the first pieces in their mouths.

"Aggghhh—Brom, what have you done to us!?" Eragon shrieked, dropping both plate and fork and collapsing to the ground, writhing in agony.

Galbatorix's eyes bulged. "Hack—hack—augh—you traitor!"

Saphira's tail knocked out several Urgals as she rolled about. _Oh, the pain—the horror!_

Brom was mystified. "It can't be _that_ bad!" Sticking a fork into the pan, he took a bite himself. And promptly dropped to the floor to writhe in agony alongside Eragon. "It _can_ be that bad…!"

The Urgals, meanwhile, had no idea what everyone was complaining about. While everyone was distracted, they carried off the rest of the cake and enjoyed it immensely.

Murtagh crawled forward, gasping. "I—I don't think I can ever eat chocolate again," he said, his voice shaky. "What _happened_...?"

Eragon saw some spilled white powder near him and sniffed at it. "Brom…what is this?"

"Sugar," Brom groaned. "I didn't need all the sugar Durza and Arya brought me, that's the leftovers…"

Eragon picked up a pinch of the stuff in his fingers and tasted it. He immediately spit it out. "Brom, that's not sugar—it's awful! No wonder the cake was so bad!"

Galbatorix's eyes narrowed. "Durza…Arya…they shall pay for this!"

The other characters nodded. Oh, yes…Durza and Arya would pay for inflicting this horror on them all. They alone had managed to avoid eating the cake—it must have been their plan all along…

"Truce?" Eragon said to Galbatorix, hauling himself into a sitting position.

"Truce," Galbatorix said. "At least until we finish this."

And so a new alliance was born…the Anti-Durza-and-Arya Guys. And maniacal laughter echoed long into the night.


	30. Old Wounds

Author's Note: at last, another chapter with Arya and Durza! This one is actually a bit long...if you enjoy, please review and tell me. And if you hate it, please review and tell me what could be improved. (sniffs) no reviews last chapter...alas! But I know you're reading, sooo...thank you to all readers, and enjoy!

Chapter 27: Old Wounds 

"So…how shall we begin Operation: Cake Revenge?" asked Eragon, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Brom fidgeted. He still wasn't entirely on board with the plan, mostly because he was terrified of the Wrath of Arya. Even Eragon had been intimidated by her rage, although it hadn't stopped him from chasing after the elf.

Galbatorix smiled an evil smile. The other characters couldn't see his face under the helmet, but his whole demean just screamed 'evil smile.' "Oh, this will be good…we must hunt them down and force-feed them cake even _worse_ than the one Brom made with their false flour! Muahahaha….MUAHAHAHA!"

_How are we supposed to hunt them down? Subieko loves them. She won't let us._

"She let Arya beat up Durza," Brom said.

"We stopped her from rescuing him!"

"Well that's just it then, isn't it?" Galbatorix said, the evil smile vibe going full-force. "We get her distracted long enough to spirit the two of them away…the end!"

"How?" Eragon says. "How can we do it?"

"Well…what are some things Subieko can be distracted by?"

There was silence for a moment as they thought. The truth was, they didn't really know anything about Subieko except that she was an evil, evil writer who loved chocolate. And Arya, Durza, and Murtagh, but that didn't really help.

_Let's go through her stuff_, Saphira suggested. _That'll give us some ideas._

"But—we can't do that!" Brom said. "That would be terrible!"

Galbatorix rolled his eyes. Or at least, they thought he did, judging from the eye-rolling vibe he gave off. Galbatorix was the only man Eragon had ever met who could actually give off facial expression vibes, but he _was_ a centuries-old evil emperor. King. Whatever.

"I'm an evil overlord. This is the kind of thing I do."

Eragon nodded firmly. "This is war, Brom…we do what we have to do!"

Brom sighed, but he got up and followed Eragon, Galbatorix, and Saphira out of the room and down the hall.

Meanwhile, Durza and Arya were still explaining matters to Nasuada. Or at least, Arya was explaining. Durza was busy fighting with Elva.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too, did too INFINITY!" Elva shouted.

Without even turning around, Arya whacked Durza in the head. "Stop being so immature!"

"She started it!" Durza said.

This time Arya did turn around. "Do you even hear yourself when you speak? And she's a baby!"

"Am not!" Elva said. "I've become older so I can ease people's pain."

"Well right now you're giving me a splitting headache, so shut up!" Arya said. Elva wandered off to go vomit somewhere, and maybe stop some assassins, leaving Arya, Durza, and Nasuada alone.

"So…the others are here as well?" Nasuada said. "Murtagh, Eragon, Saphira, Roran, Murtagh, Brom, and…am I forgetting anyone?"

"Yes," Durza said.

"Oh—and Murtagh, of course."

"You forgot _Galbatorix_," Durza said, rolling his eyes. "And you already said Murtagh—twice!"

"He's been on my mind lately," Nasuada said, as though this should be patently obvious. "I mean, he's a dangerous man to have on the enemy's side. He's powerful, even stronger than Eragon, and cunning, and far more experienced than Eragon…not someone we want against us."

"Well, right now he's recovering from chocolate addiction," Arya said. "Believe me, he's not looking so powerful and cunning."

"Whatever," Nasuada said. "Come on, let's go visit the others."

Arya and Durza agreed, and the three of them set off.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was silent by the side of the little spring. They were nearing the mountains now, and nearing Dras Leona. Arya stared into the clear waters, wincing a little when she saw the haggard, filthy face staring back at her.

_I shouldn't be surprised,_ Arya thought with a wry smile. _I've been traveling in the wilderness for…how long has it been now? It must be at least a week._

Arya had lost track of the days because there had been so little to distinguish one from another. She had run out of things to argue with Durza about, and a silence had fallen between them. As a child, Arya had thought there was nothing more wonderful than a cool night, with no noise but a gentle breeze, but now she was heartily sick of silence.

But she couldn't think of anything to say. She and Durza had absolutely nothing to speak about; there wasn't even any point in asking how close they were to Dras Leona, because neither of them was really sure.

Arya straightened up, stretching a kink in her back. Riding for hours had left her stiff. Durza was busy building a fire. The nights were growing colder, and it was unlikely that anyone would see a smile fire this deep in the forest. As long as they were careful, it would be safe enough.

Glancing at the fire in question, Arya had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. In all the time since they had met—and oh did she rue the day they had met—Arya had never seen Durza smile. Maybe a smirk, or a bitter grin, or even a feral grin, but not a real _smile_.

But now he _was_ smiling, and apparently at nothing. And sticking his hand in a fire, Arya noted belatedly; the smile had been so shocking that nothing else had really seemed odd at all.

"What are you _doing_?" Arya said.

Durza looked up. "Building a fire. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"To me it looks like you're…I don't even know what it looks like. Like you're burning yourself for some reason."

Durza held up his hand—there was no trace of injury.

"How did you do that?" Arya said, her eyes narrowing. That hadn't been a magician's spell—no words in the Ancient Language, and no aura of magical energy. If he had used a spell, she would have at least felt it.

Durza just shrugged. "What does it matter?"

Arya had had it. "Dammit, what's the _matter_ with you!? How am I supposed to fight alongside you—work with you—if I don't know the first thing about you? I can't trust someone I don't even know!"

"I don't know anything about you either. How can _I_ trust _you_?"

Arya opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, but then she shut it again. She sat down, glaring at Durza. "…what's there to know?"

Durza pondered this for a moment. On the one hand, he wanted to scathingly reply that he didn't give a damn about her or her life. But on the other hand…he_ was_ curious. "…tell me about your family. All I know is that you're the elves' princess."

Arya considered giving the Shade a scathing glare, and possibly an extremely cutting remark. She wanted to say that he had no right to know _anything_ about her. But…he did have a point. It _was_ a little hypocritical for her to demand that he tell her about himself if she didn't have the courage to do the same.

_I'm not afraid of him or anyone!_ Arya told herself firmly. "My mother's name is Islanzadi. My father died before I was born, in the wars with Galbatorix."

"No siblings?" Durza said, glancing sideways at Arya.

Arya shook her head. "No. But I was never lonely as a child." Arya's voice softened as she drifted into her memories, forgetting who she was telling them to. "Faolin trained me in the sword, and he spent as much time as he could with me. I always admired him—he was so courageous, so strong, but gentle, too…"

"Was?" Durza said.

Arya snapped out of her happy daydream, glaring at Durza. "You killed him."

"When?" Durza asked, mystified. He couldn't remember killing any elves recently.

"When you attacked me—he was one of my guards," Arya said, her voice tight with suppressed rage.

Durza frowned, thinking. Guards…? What guards? He thought back. The fire, the egg vanishing…no, before that, waiting with the Urgals…and then Arya had appeared. No, wait—hadn't there been more than one elf? Yes…yes, there had been…there had been three.

Wait. _Three_?

"Agh, dammit—I _knew_ there was something I forgot!" Durza cried, hitting himself in the forehead. "Dammit…how could I be so _stupid_!?"

Arya sat bolt upright. "What—what is it?"

Durza scowled. "Those two guards of yours…I knocked them out, I meant to finish them off later, after I got the egg, but then you vanished it and I…forgot. Dammit!"

Arya took a shuddering breath, barely daring to hope. "You mean…they're still alive?"

"As far as I know," Durza said, his scowl deepening. "Dammit…I can't believe I _forgot_ that! Goddess, I'm an _idiot_…"

Arya quickly swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping away tears of joy. "They're alive…!" She could almost have hugged Durza, but there was a limit to how happy anything could make her. Arya wouldn't have voluntarily hugged Durza if the world was about to end and that alone could stop it.

Well, maybe then. But definitely not before.

Arya felt she might burst with joy. Although she would rather have talked to someone else, Durza _was_ sitting there, and, well…

"Faolin was the one in front, with the spear. He was a master of the sword, too, though. He taught me everything I know about battle. And he was a musician—respected through all Ellesmera—even though he wasn't of noble birth, he became a guard to the royal family—"

"Princess, I'll tell you whatever you want, just _please_ stop babbling on about what's-his-name—Farin."

"It's _Faolin_, and he's a better man than you'll ever be, you—you—"

"Monster?" Durza suggested.

"I was thinking 'arrogant bastard,' but that works too," Arya replied coolly. "Anyway…I told you where I come from, now it's your turn."

Durza was silent for a moment, staring into the fire. "I was a fire spirit," he said finally. "That's why I can control fire."

"You were a _what_?"

"Are you deaf? I said, I was a fire spirit. You know that Shades come from possessed sorcerers, right? That's the kind of spirit I was before…before."

"There are different kinds of spirits?" Arya could have kicked herself. She hadn't meant to say that out loud—it had slipped out. Now he would think she was an idiot. If he didn't already.

"Of course there are different kinds of spirits," Durza said, in a tone that made Arya sure he thought she was an idiot. "Goddess, what did you think spirits were like?"

Deciding to avoid an argument she couldn't win, Arya changed the subject. "What Goddess is it that you mean?"

Abruptly, the atmosphere between them grew tense. "None that you would know of," Durza said, his voice flat and very final.

_Oh no, you are _not_ leaving me in this stupid silence again!_ "So tell me about her, then. You act as if I should know everything by instinct!"

"Only because you act as if you do," Durza replied. "And elves don't care about gods—you think anyone who worships one is a fool, yes?"

"Maybe I've never met someone who proved otherwise," Arya said carefully. She didn't want this to turn into another argument that would end in silence.

"Then surely I'm not the best person to argue for the Goddess," Durza said. "You already think I'm a fool. There's no need to lower your opinion of me further, is there?"

"I don't think you're a fool," Arya said. "A cynical, ruthless bastard, yes, but not a fool."

"I'm flattered," Durza said. Staring into the fire again, he said softly, "When I was young…my tribe—Carsaib's tribe—worshipped the Goddess. Most of the desert peoples do. She was the Lady of the Desert…the creator of the world, who gave birth to all its people."

"Carsaib?" Arya said. "Was that the name of your tribe?"

"…no," Durza said.

This time, Arya didn't push him to say more. She sensed that there was a wound there that she shouldn't open. "…well. How close are we to Dras Leona?"

Durza glanced up, looking a little lost in his thoughts. "Hm? Oh—I'm not sure. But I think we'll reach it within a few more days."

"What's our plan?" Arya said. "Do you know where the Ra'zac live?"

"I know they live inside Mount Helgrind, but I don't know where the entrance is or what it's like inside—as far as I know, no one's ever gone in. Messages are sent to them by magic."

"So how do _we_ get in?" Arya said.

Durza frowned. "…the locals send them sacrifices every evening—I know they have to enter the mountain, or the Ra'zac have to leave. Perhaps we can follow them."

"Why in Alagaesia do they send sacrifices to the Ra'zac?"

"They don't know that's what they're doing," Durza explained. "They worship the 'dark gods' that live in Mount Helgrind…those are the Ra'zac. And the Ra'zac demand sacrifices daily."

Arya shuddered. "…all right. We'll follow them. And when we find them…" She clenched her fist, her eyes hard.

"Yes," Durza said, drawing his sword and examining the blade in the firelight. It was a beautiful weapon, save for the long, thin scratch that ran down the blade. Getting up, Durza began to go through what Arya recognized as sword exercises—basic motions and patterns that helped keep a swordsman in practice.

_I haven't practiced in a long time_, Arya thought. _Locked up in that dungeon for weeks, look at me—my muscle tone's gone down, my footwork will probably be slow…I need to practice, too._

Arya got up as well, brushing off her Imperial uniform. She started a few stretches, grimacing when she wasn't as flexible as she would have liked. When she was finished stretching, she drew her sword and began going through some passes.

Durza glanced over at her. "Are you recovered enough to fight?"  
"I'll manage," Arya said through gritted teeth.

Durza shook his head and left her to her practice. _I don't think I've ever met someone so stubborn in my life_, he thought. _Still—she has spirit, and a will to match. Good to have on your side in a battle._

Grazing nearby, Rashid watched the two of them glancing at each other's sword technique out of the corners of their eyes.

_Idiots_, he thought.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"They were here before—where did they _go_?" Arya said, looking around the empty room in dismay. The former Good Guy's stronghold had been abandoned.

"Maybe they're in the Evil Lair?" Durza suggested.

Nasuada nodded. "Tell you what—let's split up. Durza, you go check the Evil Lair, and Arya and I can…uh…check somewhere else. All right?"

"Fine," Durza said with a shrug.

Nasuada grabbed Arya's arm and steered her off, but after only a little ways Arya shook Nasuada away. "What are you doing?"

Nasuada shrugged. "Well, Eragon and Murtagh will probably be together, and I thought you might want a little…you know…_alone time_ with him…"

"I AM NOT INTERESTED IN ERAGON!" Arya shouted.

Nasuada clapped her hands over her ears. "Fine, fine—would you please not use capslock? It gives me a headache."

"Whatever," Arya said. "Come on, we'll go find the others and then I'm out of here."

But little did Arya and Nasuada know, they were being followed…

"Hmph," Eragon muttered to himself from the shadows. "Not interested in me…we'll see about that!"

Meanwhile, Durza ambled off towards the Evil Lair, letting his mind wander. Maybe they should ask Brom to bake cookies next, he thought. The old man certainly seemed to enjoy his baking.

And then something hit Durza in the head, and he thought of nothing more for a long while.

"Hah," said Galbatorix. "Now we'll have our revenge!"

Murtagh ran up behind him. "Galbatorix, we've found something very strange—I think you'd better take a look."

The King frowned. What in the world could make Murtagh look so…so frightened? This, he had to see.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing Durza and marching off.

Author's Note: yes, another author's note...but I felt I should explain how Faolin and Glenwing ended up alive. See, I was reading back through the prologue, and suddenly I realized that I said Durza would go back and finish the two elves off...and then I had forgotten to have him actually to do it. Sooo...they were alive. Which worked out rather well for the story. ;;;;

Also: for the next chapter...more of Arya and Durza, or back to Murtagh and Eragon? Or someone else?


	31. Chercher la Source

Author's Note: Updates may be slow the next few weeks--I have my AP exams...urgh. Anyway, here's the next chapter, about Arya and Durza. Murtagh and Eragon are coming in the next chapter. About the title: it's French, it means 'to look for the source'. I got it from the title of a song from the Le Petit Prince soundtrack; LPP is also an excellent book. That's where I got the well thing from, sort of. Sooo...yes. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 28: Chercher la Source

"Mmm mm mmmm!" Durza said through the gag around his mouth. He was tied up in the Evil Lair, awaiting the Evil Cake that Galbatorix, Brom, and Murtagh were preparing.

"Where's Eragon? He was supposed to be here ages ago!" Murtagh said.

"He can't help it," the King said. "He's just not as reliable as you. That's why you stole his sword, remember?"

"That's true," Murtagh said. "Is that cake almost done?"

Brom nodded. "It's just got to go in the oven now." They popped it into the oven, which was inexplicably located in the Evil Lair, even though the Evil Lair wasn't in the kitchen. But the characters ignored that minor plothole in favor of continuing their revenge.

Galbatorix walked over to Durza and pulled off his gag, smirking. "Heh…soon, you shall suffer under the pain of an even worse cake than the last one!"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Durza said.

"The cake—the cake you provided baking soda for instead of sugar!" the King roared.

"…what's baking soda?"

"Don't play innocent!" Galbatorix said. "You and Arya were plotting against us all along!"

"Arya? What's she got to do with this?" Durza said.

"Eragon is off to capture her as we speak," Murtagh said. "Soon she'll be here to, and you'll both taste the cake…muahahaha!"

"Murtagh, the Evil Laugh is _only_ for the main villain!" Galbatorix said.

"But—but—NO!" Durza cried. "You can't capture Arya—this was all my idea!"

"Do you honestly think we'll fall for that one _twice_?" Brom started to say, but Galbatorix cut him off.

"What!? It was all _your_ idea!?"

Durza nodded, preparing himself for the worse. And the worst came.

Galbatorix hugged him.

"Durza, at long last you're acting like a proper Evil Minion! I didn't know you had it in you!" The King quickly untied Durza and pulled him to his feet. "It's good to have you back."

"But—but—what about our revenge!?" Murtagh cried.

Galbatorix shrugged. "Get over it."

Durza rubbed his wrists, looking somewhat dazed. "You're…not going to do anything to me?"

Galbatorix shrugged. "You must be joking—this is exemplary Evil Minion behavior. Now, back to business…Murtagh, what was it you wanted to show me before?"

Murtagh shuddered. "Something…strange. Unearthly. Unholy! It's—it's—I can't even describe it."

"Maybe we should show it to Subieko," Durza suggested. "This _is_ her house."

Brom shuffled, looking guilty. "She's…er...busy."

"Why?"

"Well, see, to capture you we had to make sure she was distracted, and, well…" Brom sheepishly held out a handful of papers. "We found these in her room."

"Integration by parts? Arc length? Polar coordinates? What _are_ these?" Durza said.

Brom shrugged. "I don't know, but when I mentioned them to Subieko, all of a sudden she grabbed a book and started reading it and muttering to herself. She called it…calculus."

"Oh well," Durza said. "We'll just have to deal with it ourselves."

The group cautiously opened the door to the closet and peered over Murtagh's shoulder at the creature within.

-o-o-o-o-o-

(I don't like you going alone. I should come with you—I'll be fine!) Rashid said, stamping a hoof.

"Rashid, we're in the foothills of the Spine. This is no place for a horse—you'll end up lame. We'll come back for you when this is finished, all right?" Durza said.

(I don't care what she does—_you_ come back.)

"Just don't follow us, all right?"

(Very well,) Rashid said, although he wasn't pleased about it. The little group had nearly reached Dras Leona, but they had approached from the West—from the mountains. It was no longer safe to ride a horse through the rocky, uneven ground of the foothills, let alone one burdened with two people.

So Arya and Durza were continuing to Dras Leona on foot, hoping to find and kill the Ra'zac. Arya didn't mind—she recovered most of her strength during the journey, and felt quite ready for battle. The two set off through the undergrowth and the hardy pine trees of the lower Spine, heading for the city. They could already see Mt. Helgrind, although it was still many miles away. It loomed over all the lands around Dras Leona, casting a shadow of fear.

"Thank the Goddess we're nearly out of this forest," Durza said, pushing aside a tree branch. "Miserable place…"

"I thought you'd stopped believing in your Goddess?" Arya said mildly, skirting a small ditch.

"You've turned me back to religion."

"How? I don't even believe in a deity!"

"Only a deity could have created someone as annoying as you," Durza said, scowling. Of all the terrains in the world, the Shade thought he might well hate temperate forests the most.

"I beg to differ," Arya said, half-smiling. "Any elf can tell you gods are only a myth, but _you_ exist."

She waited for an angry reply, but Durza said nothing. A good comeback was always worthy of admiration, even coming from an elf.

"I'm not terribly fond of this forest either," Arya said, eager to keep a conversation going. "But I suppose after Du Weldenvarden, any other forest pales by comparison."

"The elven forest? I suppose it's passable, but…"

"What in Alagaesia could be more beautiful than Du Weldenvarden?" Arya said, too amazed to be angry. Yet.

"The desert," Durza said simply, as if that should be perfectly obvious.

Arya was speechless for only a moment. "The _desert_? Are you mad? What beauty could there possibly be in the desert, of all places? It's a wasteland—totally barren, the only living things are lizards clinging to life under rocks somewhere, it's…desolate. Du Weldenvarden is filled with life—everything growing, always green and fresh, without any stain of death or decay…"

Durza smirked. "A response I would expect from an elf."

Arya's eyebrows snapped together. "What's that supposed to m—ah!"

"You might want to keep an eye on your feet," Durza said calmly, grabbing Arya's arm to stop her from falling down a small scree of gravel. "These mountains are dangerous enough without you maiming yourself."

Arya snatched her arm away, glaring at him. "…thank you," she managed to force out through gritted teeth. "Now what did you mean by that?"

"By what?"

"Don't play stupid—you said you would expect a response like that from an elf. Why do you have to be so—racist!"

"Princess, any elf would say your forest is beautiful, for exactly the same reasons as you did. And I'm not racist—I just haven't liked any elves that I've met so far in my life."

Arya had to bite back a skeptical reply. "What's so great about the desert, then?"

Durza's smile widened. "In your forest, life is easy to find. It's everywhere—meaningless. In the desert…it's not so simple. My people—I mean, Carsaib's people—had a custom. They didn't use rings for marriage proposals. Instead, the man would go out into the desert, alone—I couldn't even go with him, and I was his familiar—to search for one single sign of life. Just one. Once he found it, he brought it back…that was _real_ proof of love. Not like those ridiculous rings and vows humans use." Durza didn't even notice that he had spoken Carsaib's name without the usual twinge of pain and guilt.

Arya blinked. "That's…"

"Idiotic? No doubt you would think so—elves don't do marriage, right?"

"That is a myth," Arya said stiffly. "And _actually_, I was going to say that that's very beautiful."

"…oh."

A silence fell between them. Arya couldn't think of any way to break it—not that she wanted to. She was just bored, that was all, and wanted something to keep her mind focused. Arya went back to watching her feet—the ground was certainly uneven enough to make it necessary. Only the most hardy, stubborn trees grew here. The ground was getting steeper, and increasingly bare and rocky. She could see Dras Leona in the distance, across Leona Lake.

Arya supposed they would have to go around the lake, but that would be a smoother walk. The waters looked black in the shadow of the mountains, but not as black as the sight of Mount Helgrind, looming up from the flat ground beyond Dras Leona. The city was built in a strange, flat area of land between the Spine and Mount Helgrind. No one knew why the forests that covered so much of Alagaesia suddenly ended here—it wasn't part of the Plains. But that only added to the reverence and awe that surrounded Mount Helgrind.

Running a hand over her face, Arya forced herself to tear her eyes away from the dark spires. She had always thought it ridiculous to fear, let alone worship, a hunk of rock, but now that she saw it up close, she couldn't fight a shudder of terror.

Glancing sideways at her, Durza was surprised to see an expression of…apprehension? on Arya's face. It surely couldn't be fear—even when he had tortured her, Durza couldn't remember ever seeing Arya look frightened. Still, it was unsettling even to see her apprehensive—it was so out of character.

"Do you know what makes the desert beautiful?" Durza said abruptly.

Arya's head snapped up. "I beg your pardon?" she said, jolted out of her thoughts.

"The desert."

"I don't think it's beautiful in the first place," Arya said, looking back at Helgrind.

"Oh—humor me," Durza said.

"…fine. I have no idea what makes the desert beautiful."

"It hides a well," Durza said, trying not to grin.

"I would assume the desert people have wells, but I doubt they're particularly attractive," Arya said.

Durza couldn't resist a grin now. "This well is different. You can only find it if you already know that it exists."

"Then no one would ever have been able to find it in the first place!"

Durza shrugged. "If you think that, then it's probably true. But if you think it _is_ possible…well. That would be different."

"I hope you realize that you're completely insane," Arya muttered. "Finally—we're out of the mountains. Which way?"

"East, around the lake," Durza said. As they set off, he glanced at Arya's face again. She seemed to have come out of her fearful mood.

_Much better_, Durza thought.

Although they couldn't see it through the deepening twilight, Dras Leona lay ahead. Just another day or so…just a few more marches before they faced the Ra'zac.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Subieko was fast asleep, her face pressed against the keyboard of her laptop, her calculus book open beside her. Papers were scattered everywhere, covered with complicated equations and graphs.

"We shouldn't wake her up," Nasuada said. "She looks exhausted, there are dark circles under her eyes…"

"Don't be fooled," Eragon said. "She takes pleasure in torturing us!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "All right, all right, we agreed to come with you, you've 'captured' us. Now what was the point of all this?"

"I told you, revenge for that awful cake!"

"And _I_ told _you_, I didn't know it wasn't flour! I thought it was! I'm sorry already!"

Eragon shuffled his feet. He knew he should remain firm and unmoved. Justice demanded it. He was a Rider, and he was _not_ swayed by a pretty face! Even one that was so delicate and sculpted and framed by fiery red hair and…

"Okay," Eragon said, grinning vaguely. "I forgive you."

Arya rolled her eyes again. "Idiot," she muttered. "Come on, let's go find the others, Nasuada still hasn't gotten to talk to Murtagh."

And the three of them set off towards the Evil Lair, leaving Subieko alone with her dreams…dreams filled with calculus.


	32. The Inheritance

Author's Note: I beg forgiveness...this chapter is very, very late. Much later than I intended. -(hangs head in shame)- The only excuses I can offer: 1. Writer's block. 2. Script frenzy. 3. starting my job at summer camp. But now the chapter is written...hopefully it's of good quality. If it's awful...please be patient with me, I am attempting to conquer this writer's block once and for all!

Thank you very much to alsdssg for letting me borrow two of her characters, Estelena and Amowiel Magdelena. If you haven't read her fic 'Why Canon and Fanon Don't Mix', you're missing out on a VERY funny read. Go check it out!

Also: I have decided to move Farthen Dur. Yes, I am moving a mountain. In the book, Eragon and Murtagh's journey would have killed their horses long before they reached Farthern Dur. So, I have increased the time spent on the journey and decreased the distance they have to travel. Just trying to make it plausible.

This is a Murtagh, Eragon, and Saphira chapter...any thoughts on which chars the next chapter should focus on? And the next chapter will hopefully be written much more quickly, so fear not, it won't be a long wait! Sorry again, and enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 29: The Inheritance

Subieko lay flat on her back, dark circles under her eyes, books scattered around her. APs were over…finals were over…at last, she could rest…

Then she sat up with a jolt. What day was it? "…it's the end of JUNE!?" Subieko shrieked, staring in horror at her calendar. "Oh, man, I've got to get back to work on the stories, no time for sleeping, not now!"

Subieko flung herself into her writing chair and flicked on her laptop. Little did she know the horror that was about to be unleashed upon her poor, defenseless story…

"What _is_ it?" Durza asked, staring in horrified fascination at the creature before him. It looked like a human, but no human was ever that tall and that thin at the same time—any normal person would have collapsed from starvation long ago to maintain such a grotesquely stick-like figure. And what human ever had hair with two different colors? Black, with gold streaks…unheard of. And her eyes! Every few minutes they changed to a new color, cluttered with specks of metallic and iridescent shades. Durza reached out a hand to poke it, then drew back.

"Is it dangerous?" he asked.

Murtagh shrugged. "I don't know. I found it wandering around in the hall, so I captured it…it didn't put up that much resistance."

"How can it stand upright?" Brom said. "Its…er, chest…should be way too heavy for a body that size."

Galbatorix rubbed his hands together, cackling an evil cackle. "Oh, this…this must be a creature of _pure evil_! That's the only explanation!"

The others were about to dispute this when Eragon, Arya, and Nasuada walked into the Evil Lair. "Oh there you all are—we were just looking for you," Arya said.

Then something totally unexpected happened.

The strange creature took one look at Eragon, and its extremely red lips opened wide. "Eragon, my troo luv!" it cried in a voice that was somewhat musical. Durza suspected it would get stuck in his head like a commercial jingle if he had to hear it too much.

Eragon stumbled back, shocked, but then a change came over his face. His expression grew slack, and a vague, foolish grin appeared. "What's your name?"

"Estelena Magdelena," said the creature. "And I'm a dragon rider and I'm Galbatorix's daughter and I'm your true love, Gonnie-Wonnie!"

"That's the stupidest nickname I've ever heard," said Arya, her delicate eyebrows nearly vanishing into her hairline. Durza just snickered.

"No it isn't," Eragon said. "It's beautiful—just like you, Estelena!" And the two of them began snogging each other.

"Ugh," Arya said. "At least he's not chasing after me this time. Anyway, Nasuada, here's Murtagh…"

But Murtagh was staring off into space as well. There in the doorway had appeared another strange creature. It was quite similar to Estelena, but its ankle-length hair was a red so bright it was blinding, and it had green eyes with strange specks of black in them. Durza wondered if the girl might have some sort of eye disease, but apparently she felt fine, because she leapt at Murtagh.

"Murtagh, my true love!"

"It's like déjà vu all over again," Brom said. Then the girl shoved him aside to reach her 'true love,' and he fell down with a muffled curse.

"What's your name?" Murtagh said.

"Amowiel," said the girl. "Amowiel Magdelena, and I'm a dragon rider and I'm Galbatorix's daughter and I'm your true love, Murty!"

"This is getting really creepy," Durza said, backing away slowly from the couples. "They're like the same person, only with different bodies!"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a baby. Get lost, you two!"

The two girls turned to glare at Arya. "She's a be-yotch and a slut and she's ugly!" they shrieked as one.

Arya mouthed in silent fury for a moment, then slapped the pair of them across the face. Eragon and Murtagh sprang forward and grabbed Arya.

"How dare you touch my True Love, you hussy!" Eragon said.

"How dare you touch MY True Love, you dipshit!" Murtagh said.

Arya was rendered speechless by a combination of rage and confusion, and the two dragged her off.

"That was…" Brom said, staring after them.

"Odd," Durza finished, his eyes wide. "What _are_ they?"

Galbatorix didn't answer. He was clutching his head, and seemed to be experiencing severe stomach pain, judging from the fact that he was curled up on the floor in fetal position. "Must…kill…must…act evil…must…speak with poor grammar and spelling…"

Durza shuddered. This was too strange. "Brom, let's get out of here!"

"Right," Brom said. "We've got to find Subieko—this IS her house, after all."

The two of them fled the room at top speed, not daring to look back. The worst enemies of fandoms everywhere had arrived. They were…_Mary-Sues_.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Murtagh tugged on Tornac's reigns, bringing the horse to a stop. He stood up in the stirrups, scanning the horizon. He and Eragon had finally made it out of the desert, and were now traveling in the foothills of the Beor Mountains, searching for the narrow mountain pass that Eragon said would bring them to the Varden's hidden stronghold.

Murtagh sat back down in his saddle, his face troubled. He had wanted to bring Eragon to the safety of the Varden, ensure that he and Saphira would have the chance to someday bring down Galbatorix. But now that they were so close—it was perhaps another week's ride—Murtagh was beginning to have second thoughts.

He could not go to the Varden. They would find out the truth somehow, and when they did…he would be lucky to escape with his life.

"Murtagh? What is it?" Eragon said, bringing his own horse to a stop beside Murtagh's. Over the past two weeks of travel, Eragon had gained a little more riding skill. It was nothing to brag about, and he knew it, but at least now Eragon didn't frantically cling to the pommel every time they went faster than a trot.

"It's nothing," Murtagh said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "I just…"

"What?" Eragon said again, his smile fading. He sensed trouble coming.

Murtagh took a deep breath. "…I can't come with you to the Varden."

"WHAT!?" It was just as bad as Murtagh had feared. Eragon looked torn between shock, panic, and outrage. "But—you've got to come! You're a great warrior, the Varden need you! And where else would you go? The King is after you too, remember?"

"I just can't come, Eragon. I can't explain it—I just can't!"

Eragon glared at Murtagh. "Murtagh, I—"

_Eragon, look out!_ Saphira cried as she shoved Eragon out of the saddle. The blue dragon had grown a bit over the last few weeks, and was now the size of a large dog. Eragon hit the ground with a dull thud, sending dead leaves and bracken flying.

An arrow whistled through the spot where Eragon's head had been a moment before and slammed into a pine tree. Murtagh drew his sword and turned to face their attackers. Five men in ragged cloaks had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and had surrounded Eragon and Murtagh.

"Such fine horses they've got," said one, scratching his scraggly beard. "They'll be worth a pretty penny, they will."

"Too right," said another of the men, his grey eyes alight with cruel laughter. "And lookit them blades! Ah, we'll eat like kings soon enough, lads!"

"I don't think so," Murtagh said, his sword held easily in his hand, his face calm. There was a steely glint in his eyes, though, and his muscles were tensed for a fight. "Leave now if you want to live."

Eragon had strung his bow while Murtagh spoke to the bandits, and fitted an arrow to the string. Saphira crouched beside him, her teeth bared.

"Wait, what's that?" one of the men asked. "Gods—a dragon!"

"We'd better get out of here!"

"Shut up, you idiots!" The largest of the men stepped forward, wielding an axe. "We give that to the King, we're set for life! Charge!"

Tornac snorted and sprang forward to meet them. "Stay back, Eragon," Murtagh called as he brandished his sword. "You're not trained for battle, you'll just get yourself killed!"

Eragon had been shaking with fear before, but at Murtagh's words, he scowled. He was no coward—he could fight, and he would! Pulling the bowstring back to his ear, Eragon sighted along the shaft of the arrow and let it fly. It buried itself solidly in one man's throat, and he fell.

The bowstring went slack as Eragon stared in numb disbelief at the fallen bandit. Blood was pouring from his mouth as he struggled to breathe. The man went still quickly, but Eragon could still see his horrified, pain-filled eyes in his mind.

"I…I killed him," Eragon whispered. He had killed the Urgals, yes, but that had been different. This was a fellow man.

The clang of swords brought Eragon back to his senses. Murtagh had struck down two of his attackers, but the last two had flanked him, and he was having trouble.

_This is no time to daydream!_ Eragon told himself, forcing his hands to move, forcing himself to put another arrow on the string, ignoring his tears.

Saphira snapped at the legs of a bandit's horse, then slashed at its belly with her claws. The horse fell with a screaming neigh of pain, and Murtagh didn't miss a beat. Swinging his blade forward, he lopped off the man's head.

But Murtagh had been forced to leave himself open to a blow from the last bandit. The man raised his sword to strike at Murtagh's unprotected back before he could recover. Murtagh turned, trying to bring his blade up in time to block, but he knew it would be too late.

_Thunk_. An arrow plunged into the man's chest, and he staggered back. Murtagh took advantage of his distraction and ran the man through. The fight was over—he and Eragon had won.

Eragon fell to his knees, staring at the carnage with wide, horrified eyes. He tasted bile in his mouth, and he couldn't stop himself from shaking. Blood was soaking into the soil, the coppery smell of it was everywhere.

Saphira nuzzled Eragon gently, smearing blood from her muzzle to his face. _No other choice_, she said softly.

Murtagh wiped his sword off and slid it back into his sheath. Seeing tears on Eragon's cheeks, he scowled. Eragon had no idea what real hardship was—he got weak-stomached over a few dead bandits.

_He could never understand. He would never have survived what I've been through!_

"Get up and stop your sniveling, Eragon," Murtagh said, more coldly than he intended to. "Don't be such a coward—you're going to have to get used to battle if you plan to join the Varden."

Eragon got shakily to his feet, hurriedly scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't call me a coward! You can't possibly understand—I just _killed _that man, he was standing there one minute and then he was gone—I saved your life!"

Murtagh laughed, but there was no joy in it. "You wouldn't have lasted a minute on your own. It's a good thing you've got a pet dragon to keep you safe, Eragon."

Saphira bared her bloodstained teeth, growling deep in her throat. Eragon's fists clenched, his expression matching hers. "You're the coward—you're afraid to come to the Varden! You say you hate the King, but you're afraid to openly challenge him!"

The moment he saw Murtagh's face, Eragon regretted his words. He could tell that he had hurt Murtagh, hurt him deeply.

"Shut up," Murtagh said softly, gritting his teeth. "Shut up—you can't understand! You don't know what it's like—what I've been through—"

"Murtagh, I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, it was just…the heat of the moment, you know…I wasn't thinking," Eragon said, taking a step back. A voice in his mind whispered, _he deserved it—he called me a coward_, but Eragon forcefully squelched it.

"Just—tell me why you won't come," Eragon said, a hint of desperation in his voice. If Murtagh really wasn't coming with him to the Varden, then he couldn't bear to say goodbye like this. Garrow had always said, never let the sun set on your anger.

"You want to know? Fine!" Murtagh said. Part of him was shouting at him to stop being an idiot and not reveal the truth, but Murtagh threw caution to the winds. "My father…my father is…"

"Yes?" Eragon whispered, fearing the answer but longing to know.

"Morzan," Murtagh said at last. "My father is Morzan. I'm the son of a monster. The Varden would never accept me." He looked away, not wanting to see the disgust on Eragon's face. Eragon would hate him now, Murtagh new that.

A tense silence stretched between them, neither one knowing how to break it. Even the normal sounds of the forest seemed suddenly missing as the scent of blood wafted around them on the gentle breeze.

Eragon took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. Slowly, he drew Zar'roc from the sheath Brom had given him. It still seemed strangely heavy, heavier than a sword ought to.

"Then this belongs to you."

Murtagh looked up, unable to believe his ears. Eragon was holding out the crimson sword, hilt-first. His face was pale, he looked shocked, but there was no hatred in his eyes.

"What are you saying?"

"This belongs to you," Eragon said, more strongly this time. This was the right thing to do—he could feel it. Garrow would have approved. He had always taught Eragon and Roran to judge men on their actions, on their character, not on their looks or their birth. "This was Morzan's sword—if you're his son, it should be yours, not mine."

With trembling fingers, Murtagh reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword that had caused so much pain. It felt light in his hand, as though he had been born holding it. The sword might have been made for him, it fit his grip so well. "Eragon, I…"

"My brother's name is Roran," Eragon blurted out, interrupting Murtagh.

Murtagh couldn't manage words at this point. He settled for a blank look.

"We'll say that you're Roran," Eragon said, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. "We'll say you're my brother, traveling with me—the Varden will never need to know that you're Morzan's son, or any of that. No one has to know. Please, Murtagh—you've got to come with us. I…I would really miss you if you left," Eragon finished in an embarrassed whisper.

Saphira nudged Murtagh. She didn't want him to leave either.

Murtagh blinked hard and swallowed several times. With a gruff cough, he said, "I—it might work. And…and I suppose I should see you all the way to the Varden. You…you get into too much trouble on your own…"

Eragon seized Murtagh in a tight hug, surprising him so much he dropped Zar'roc. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I knew you'd come—I knew it!"

Saphira watched in satisfaction as Murtagh awkwardly patted Eragon on the back, all thoughts of their quarrel forgotten. She was very pleased. Eragon had a good friend in Murtagh, she was sure of that.

But not as good a friend as her, of course. That was a given.

-o-o-o-o-o-

With an echoing thud, the hammer slammed once more into the large chunk of concrete. Chips of stone went flying everywhere, and Roran ducked, shielding himself with his arms.

"Subieko, would you stop that? It's dangerous!"

"No," Subieko said, glaring at the concrete block. "I'm going to smash this Writer's Block to bits if it's the last thing I do!" With a loud war cry, she brought the hammer crashing down again.

"This is awful," Roran mumbled, moving a safe distance away. "And where did everybody go?"

At that moment, the door to the room burst open, and Durza and Brom raced in, panting. Brom slammed the door shut behind them and collapsed against it, sliding to the floor.

"What's up with you two?" Subieko said, putting down the hammer.

"It's awful," Durza said, shuddering at the memory. "Those—_things_—tried to chase us! We were nearly caught! And then Galbatorix was acting all strange, and so were Eragon and Murtagh, and they dragged Arya off somewhere!"

Brom nodded, too shaken to say a word.

Subieko's eyebrows snapped together. "Wait—_what_ was chasing you?"

In a rush of breath, Durza spilled out the whole story, starting with the appearance of Estelena and Amowiel Magdelena. Then he slumped to the floor next to Brom, whimpering slightly.

Subieko's face went pale. "Oh no…I never thought something like this could happen…this really IS awful!"

"What were they?" Durza whispered, looking up at the young writer.

Subieko shivered, pulling her jacket more tightly around her. "Horrible monsters," she whispered. "The worst things in any fandom. _Mary-Sues_. We've got to get rid of them—they'll infect the story and destroy it!"

"No!" Brom said. "I've only just gotten a part that doesn't involve dying!"

"We've got to fight them," Subieko said. "That's our only hope. Roran, Durza, Brom…we're the only ones here. Possible the only ones who haven't be affected. The story is counting on us!"

The three characters nodded. They would destroy the Mary-Sues. They had to. Such creatures of evil were never meant to exist at all…


	33. Stirring Up Trouble

Author's Note: Aaaaaaah, I've been gone so long! Sorry, sorry! Life intervened...but now, I am BACK! Hopefully I'll be updating again next week...and to make up for how long this chapter has been in the works, it's extra-long! I hope any readers out there will forgive me...(bows) I am so sorry!

Also: Estelena, Amowiel, and Raeyenne Magdelena, and their dragons, are borrowed with permission from alsdssg's fic 'Why Canon and Fanon Don't Mix.' It's absolutely hilarious, so I highly recommend it.

Aaaaand...is there anything else to say? No warnings in this chapter...erm...next chapter will be with Eragon, Murtagh, and Saphira. and if anyone is wondering where the heck Brom disappeared to...I didn't forget him--I actually know exactly where he is, and he'll be appearing again before the end of the story. I think that's about it...

Well--enjoy the chapter. (bows again) I humbly beg forgiveness for its lateness.

--Subieko

Chapter 30: Stirring Up Trouble

"Is everyone in position?" Subieko whispered into her walkie-talkie.

"Brom reporting in, Subieko—all ready," came the crackle of a reply.

"You're supposed to use the code names!" Subieko hissed.

"But don't you think that's a little—"

"Codenames!"

"Oh, all right…this is Gandalf reporting in, all ready."

"Vader reporting in, all ready. And how come he gets a cooler codename than me?" Durza said over the walkie-talkies.

"Bluejeans reporting in," Roran said. "And I agree—my codename is stupid!"

"Your codename is _perfect_, Blue," Subieko said. "Because in the movie, there's a scene where you're wearing jeans!"

"What's a movie again?" Brom said.

"Never mind. Now stop asking stupid questions and get ready! Does everyone remember the plan?"

"I try to find Eragon—" Brom started to say, but Subieko cut him off with a pointed cough. Brom sighed. "Oh all _right_ already! I try to find Luke and separate him from Mary-Sue #1."

"I go with Br—I mean, Gandalf, and try to knock out the Mary-Sues with my hammer," Roran said.

"Right," Subieko said. "Remember, leave Anakin for now—we'll rescue them one at a time."

"Wait, who's Anakin again?" Durza said. "Is that Galbatorix?"

"_No_, Durza, it's Murtagh! Now your part in the plan is…?" Subieko said.

Durza sighed. He wasn't too confident about this plan. "I try to find Arya—I mean, Arwen—and get her away from the Sues."

"Where's Angela?" Brom asked. "Shouldn't she be helping? And what about Orik?"

"They're helping me guard the story," Subieko said. "The Sues might come after it. All right, everyone—go for it!"

And so the two teams set out on their respective missions. Little did they know that the enemy had been listening to their every word…

"Like, this is totally not cool!" Estelena Magdelena said. "Trying to separate me from Erry-Munchkins!"

"I know, it's sooooo bad," Amowiel Magdelena said. "What do we do, sis?"

"What we do best," Estelena said with a smirk. "I'll take care of the old guy and Dragon Head's cousin—you handle that dumb girl messing up the story. She's dumber than Arya!"

"And dumber than Nasuada," Amowiel added.

"No, no, it's Anunada," Estelena said. "Her name is soooo way too hard to spell, isn't it?"

"Totally," Amowiel said. "Where's Raeyenne?"

"Guarding that stupid dipshit hussy, Arya."

Amowiel nodded. "All right—let's go. This will be sooooo easy!"

Little did she know…

-o-o-o-o-o-

The smell was what first struck Arya. The air stank of fish; she and Durza had stopped near one of the little docks on the lake's edge to discuss their plan.

"How do they stand it?" she muttered, coughing.

Durza shrugged. "Dras-Leona depends on its fishermen. Haven't you ever been here before?"

Arya shot him a look. "I'm an _elf_. This is a _human_ city."

Durza snorted. "It's hardly a city."

"You said it was ruled by a lord, didn't you? It's large enough to be a city."

"I prefer to think of it as a blemish."

Arya really couldn't argue with that. She shoved her helmet down a little farther, making sure it covered her ears. She had wrapped a strip of cloth around her face like a scarf to hide her features; a female soldier would certainly stand out.

"No one will even notice us," Durza said, not for the first time that day. "This city has its own garrison, what with the Ra'zac being near hear. Soldiers are common enough." Still, he tugged the hood he was wearing further down over his own face. No need to take unnecessary risks.

"I still don't think we should split up," Arya muttered, glancing around. The fishermen were ignoring them; they saw soldiers around the area often enough.

"The faster we do this, the faster we can leave. We shouldn't take chances," Durza replied. "I know the garrison here, I can get in easily enough. And the cathedral is open to the public—it shouldn't be too hard for you to find out when they're sending the next sacrifices."

"Hopefully they're still even _here_," Arya said.

"We'll know soon enough."

Arya nodded, and the two walked on in tense silence. She expected to be stopped at any second, to hear someone raise the alarm that two dangerous traitors to the Empire were entering the city.

But no one spoke a word. No one even looked up as they entered the city limits. The stench of fish was replaced by the stench of rotting garbage and unwashed bodies; only the inner part of the city was even remotely clean in Dras-Leona. Arya coughed, her eyes watering.

"It's so quiet," she whispered.

"It always is," Durza whispered back.

The silence was oppressive, heavy. Scrawny humans in ragged cloths begged on the streets; most passerby only noticed the wretched people when they shoved them aside. An old woman huddled in the doorway of a dingy wooden shack, shivering with the chill off the lake. Her legs were covered with open sores.

Arya wanted to look away, but her gaze was drawn in morbid fascination to the squalor of the place. She had been told before that humans were uncivilized, but this took it to another level. And why were there so many people missing limbs? Surely, so many people in this city couldn't have lost hands and feet and eyes by accident.

"This is horrible," she said in low voice, unconsciously taking a step closer to Durza.

"It gets better farther in," he replied. "The poor live on the outskirts of the city. This is one of the worst areas."

"It's still horrible."

Silence fell between them again; something about the city made them cautious. Arya felt as though some invisible eye were watching her, judging her. It made her skin crawl.

"We split up here," Durza said abruptly. He pointed to the road on his left. "The Cathedral is that way. You can't miss it."

Arya nodded, trying to look more composed than she felt. The sight of Dras-Leona had left her shaken. But she would not admit that to Durza. "Fine. Where should I find you afterwards?"

"Stay at the Cathedral—I'll find you," Durza said. "Be careful."

Arya said nothing in reply; she was afraid her voice would shake and give her away. They parted ways, and she continued on alone. The streets began to widen and grow marginally cleaner. There were fewer beggars here, closer to the heart of the city, although the maimed were just as common.

Arya did her best to block it all out, staring down at her feet rather than at the people around her. She had seen men fight and die in battle, but she had never seen anything like this. These people weren't dying in combat—they were dying of neglect.

_The elves would never permit such a thing_, she thought. Her jaw was clenched tightly. _Only among humans…_

She looked up only when she reached the Cathedral. The massive stone building loomed in the center of a small, barren courtyard. The fountain in front of it was dry and caked with mud, and only a scattered handful of weeds grew around the path that led to the Cathedral doors.

Arya paused at the bottom of the steps. The four spires of the Cathedral, so like those of Mount Helgrind, pierced the sky above her, and before her stretched the massive stone walls, covered with statues and carvings. Everything was gray and dead here; the building seemed to drain all the color and light out of everything around it.

_I have to go in_, she told herself. They needed whatever information they could find. And it was only a building. Only a fool would be afraid of a building.

Slowly, she mounted the steps. The black, iron-bound door stood before her. It would be foolish to turn back now.

But still she hesitated. Perhaps the door was not open at all. Perhaps the Cathedral did not welcome visitors. Arya knew nothing of human religions, after all. It might not be wise to barge in.

She studied the door intently as she pondered this. It was inlaid with silver script in the Ancient Language.

"May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved," she read. Arya shivered; she didn't want to know what that was supposed to mean.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, shaking herself. Here she was, unable to do what she had to do because she was afraid of a building. What was she going to tell Durza when they met up again? Sorry, I didn't find anything out—I didn't want to go in the building. Idiotic.

There was no putting it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, Arya gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It didn't take Durza much time to reach the garrison. He had been to Dras-Leona several times before, on various assignments for the King. Galbatorix believed it was good practice for his commanders to have a presence among the troops, even those outside the capital, and that included his General.

It was a fairly small garrison, nothing to the one in Uru'baen, but still it was unusual. Few cities maintained any kind of standing army; Dras-Leona merited one only because of the Ra'zac, and because of its proximity to Surda. Not that the people of Dras-Leona knew that, or cared. Anything that didn't directly affect their lives wasn't worth noticing.

It wasn't difficult to sneak in, either. The soldiers at Dras-Leona considered their assignment nothing more than babysitting the Surdan border and the strange, fanatical worshippers of Mt. Helgrind's dark gods; they saw no reason to be watchful. No enemy had ever arrived. And so when Durza arrived, no one so much as batted an eye.

But no matter how negligent the soldiers of Dras-Leona were, it wasn't wise to linger. Durza hurried to find the commander's office; that was where any orders would be kept. The King had made literacy a requirement for his officers so that written orders could be sent. He said it was better for record keeping.

Right now, it certainly made things easier for Durza.

"Here we go," he muttered, carefully opening the lock on the commander's door with a simple spell. With no way of knowing where the commander was, he had to hurry. Stepping inside and shutting the door carefully behind him, Durza riffled through the papers on the commander's desk.

There were certainly a lot of them—internal orders from Marcus Tabor, the lord in charge of the city, as well as orders from the King and reports from the soldiers. But there was no time to read through them all.

"Ah—here we are. The Ra'zac…" To his dismay, Durza saw that the Ra'zac were ordered to move out within a few day's time. In pursuit of the dragon rider, no doubt…not that the orders said that; Durza guessed that the King wanted to keep the rider's existence quiet for now.

"We don't have much time," he said. "I'd better go find the elf…"

With that, he slipped out of the garrison again, as silent as a shadow.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Inside the Cathedral it was cool and dark. Arya found the effect almost claustrophobic, despite the high roof; she was used to spending almost all of her time outdoors. Even in the Varden's stronghold, Farthen Dur, she had not felt as uncomfortable as she did here. At least the dwarves' mountain home was natural. This place felt somehow…wrong, getting under her skin until she could barely stand it.

The place was mostly empty, but Arya spotted a small group of people up at the front of the room. She made her way towards them, keeping to the shadows and moving as silently as only an elf could. She walked past the blank-eyed statues, trying not to look at their tortured poses. Instead she focused on the small group of people surrounding the great stone slab that was the altar.

All but two of the small group—Arya counted six, but there might be more elsewhere in the Cathedral—were wearing long gray robes. The last two were a pair of young boys dressed in white linen, their hands bound with thin ropes. They were shaking, their faces twisted with fear.

_What's going on here?_ Arya thought, taking a cautious step closer. She could hear them speaking now.

"Please," said the smaller boy, "Please, no! We didn't do anything wrong!"

"You have been chosen," said one of the robed figures. "Our gods demand a sacrifice."

"We didn't!" the boy said. "We didn't, it's not true! Take someone else, not us, please, not us!"

"You should be proud," said another of the robed figures. This one had a deep, sonorous voice. "You will become one with the gods. These mortal bodies are nothing beside that…"

"No! Please, I beg you—please, no!" The boy was shrieking now, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Arya's hands were shaking. She knew, suddenly, what was going on. Those boys were going to die.

It never occurred to her that she mustn't break her cover, or that she would be placing herself and Durza in danger, and by doing so placing the dragon rider in danger. All she knew, in that moment, was that two innocent lives were about to be taken, and she could not let it happen.

Her sword was already in her hand as she sprang forwards.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Durza walked quickly back through the streets of Dras-Leona, heading for the Cathedral. Although they would have to move quickly, at least the Ra'zac were still here. In fact, Durza was just thinking that this whole thing had gone surprisingly well when screams erupted from the streets ahead.

"Dammit," he muttered, drawing his sword and breaking into a run. Somehow, he just _knew_ this had something to do with Arya.

And when he reached the courtyard outside the Cathedral, his worst suspicions were confirmed. There she was, standing in the middle of a knot of people with her sword drawn. Several robed bodies lay at her feet, bleeding. He just barely noticed two young boys in white robes fleeing past him as he ran forward.

"There you are!" Arya said. Her scarf had come loose, but at least her helm was still covering her ears.

"What the bloody hell did you do!?" Durza said, scowling as he knocked aside a few peasants armed with makeshift weapons to reach the elf.

"They were going to kill those boys," Arya said.

"You—" Durza couldn't find words enough to curse her stupidity, and fell silent.

Meanwhile, someone had finally thought to call for the guard. Unarmed peasants didn't worry Durza—he and Arya could probably kill all of them without breaking a sweat if they had to. But soldiers? That was a problem. The weight of numbers alone might overwhelm them.

"Come on," Durza said, grabbing Arya's wrist and pulling her back into the Cathedral. He slammed the doors shut after them. "Help me keep this closed."

"There must be other ways in," Arya said, but she grabbed a long iron candle stand and shoved it through the handles of the doors all the same.

"Which is how we're going to leave," Durza said, sheathing his sword and running down the aisle of the Cathedral. "We need to get out of here—right now we're just two crazy people. If they realize who we really are—"

Arya nodded. "Where can we go? The land around here is flat for miles, there's no cover."

"I'm…not sure," Durza admitted. He hadn't planned for this—he had assumed Arya was competent enough not to start a riot.

Several loud thumps sounded against the doors; the mob wouldn't be kept out for long. "Over here," Arya said. "There's a door."

_Hopefully it leads outside_, Durza thought, but he followed her all the same; it wasn't like he had a better idea. Just as long as they didn't get trapped in here…

The mob outside finally realized that the doors weren't going to be opening any time soon, and moved on to one of the side entrances.

Arya cursed softly. "We're out of time—where do we go?"

"I don't know!" Durza said. "I wasn't expecting this to happen!"

"Damn…" She paused for a moment, trying to think. Speed alone wouldn't get them out of this. There had to be somewhere they could hide…somewhere that wasn't in the city…

"Wait—I know what to do. Come on!"

Durza hesitated only a moment. Whatever plan she had was better than no plan at all. Out they went through one of the back entrances of the Cathedral, down a side street to the edge of the city. Back to the docks and the fishing boats…back to the lake.

"Wait a minute," Durza said when Arya grabbed his arm. "What are you—"

With a terrific splash, she pulled both of them under the water and swam for an overhang she had spotted along the shore on their way in. Ducking underneath it (and pulling Durza after her), she stilled, listening for pursuers.

On a fishing boat across the lake, one man looked up. He saw the ripples in the water and shook his head. "Must be some big fish out there."

"Must be," his companion said. And with that, they went back to their nets.

The mob never even left the city; they were too busy searching inside it. The soldiers, too, assumed that whoever had started the trouble must have fled to somewhere within the city. They knew that the land around Dras-Leona was too flat for anyone to hide in the wilderness. And anyway, it had probably just been some fanatic. Nothing that the King's army needed to worry about. They would question anyone who had been found at the Cathedral and call it a day.

Back on the lake, meanwhile, Arya cautiously swam to the surface. Durza had latched onto her, and she was forced to drag him along with her, much to her annoyance. But her annoyance faded as she took a deep breath. Even the stench of rotting fish couldn't change how sweet that air tasted.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking!?" Durza hissed, glaring at her.

"It worked, didn't it?" Arya whispered back, pulling herself out of the water.

Durza followed her, although much less gracefully. He collapsed in a heap on the shore, coughing up water. He just glared at her, unable to speak for a moment.

"Come on," Arya said, moving cautiously along the shore. "Let's at least get away from the docks." They would have to stay out of site as best they could for now.

Durza forced himself to his feet, staggering after her. He _hated_ water. "You—that—we could both have drowned!"

Arya shrugged. "It wasn't _that_ deep."

"I can't _swim_!"

Arya opened her mouth, then closed it again. "…oh."

"And may I ask why you felt it necessary to start a bloody riot? You were supposed to stay out of sight!"

"They were going to kill those boys," she said again. "I couldn't just let that happen. Do you think this is far enough?" she added, looking around. They had gone around a slight bend in the lake shore, where there was at least a little cover from the tall grasses that grew along the banks.

"You're an idiot," Durza said, sitting down.

Arya dropped down next to him. "I didn't know you couldn't swim!"

"Not about that," Durza said, although he shot her a dark look. "Those boys."

"They needed help," Arya said. "Someone like you wouldn't understand."

Durza pulled his sword out of its sheath and started drying it off, hoping to avoid rust. It was rather difficult since every piece of cloth he had was also soaking wet. "Princess…" He shook his head. "Never mind. There's no point."

"Tell me what you were going to say," Arya said, taking out her own sword and her bow. She grimaced when she saw that several of her arrows were ruined; the feathered fletching wasn't meant to be soaked in water.

Durza sighed. "Those boys may live today. But if they aren't sacrificed, two other people will be. It doesn't matter how many people you save, princess. You can't stop this."

"At least I tried," Arya said.

"I'm sure the next sacrifices will appreciate that," Durza said. "Princess, if you want to stop this from happening, starting a riot is pointless. The only way to change this is from the top."

Arya refused to ask what he meant. If he thought she should have abandoned those boys to their fates, then he was wrong. It was that simple.

"This isn't going to dry for weeks," Durza said, shaking water out of his scabbard. "I hate being wet…." He was already shivering; night was falling, and it was getting colder.

Arya sighed, tugging off her helm and shaking out her dripping hair. "It was all I could think of." That was as close as she could bring herself to apologizing.

"It did work," Durza admitted. "And I found something—the Ra'zac have orders to leave Dras-Leona in a few days. They must be tracking the dragon rider. We need to hurry." He started pulling off his wet tunic.

"Are you crazy?" Arya said, staring at him. "Aren't you cold enough already?"

"I'm not interested in freezing to death," Durza said. "We need dry clothes." Concentrating, he whispered a spell.

"Couldn't you have done that without taking it off?"

"I've never done this before, and I'd rather not test a new spell on something I'm still wearing," Durza said dryly. "Hmmm…seems safe enough."

"But—we should save our energy. We might need to use magic if we're attacked."

"If we stay wet, we'll die, princess. I've seen it happen before. I'll cast the spell for you, that way one of us will still be at full strength."

"All right," Arya said. She _was_ cold. At least she wouldn't have to take her clothes off to get them dry. "What's that?" she said abruptly.

"What's what?" Durza said, starting to pull his tunic back on.

"That," Arya said, grabbing his arm. "On your back."

"Let go of me!" Durza said, but Arya ignored him. Looking closer, she saw that his back was covered with scars…scars that seemed very familiar to her. If she hadn't healed herself, she would bear similar marks.

Shoving her hand off, Durza pulled his tunic back on, covering the scars. He quickly dried the rest of his clothes with the spell, then turned to Arya. "Sit still, princess."

"How did you get those scars?" Arya said, although she already knew.

"It hardly matters. It was years ago," Durza said. "Now sit _still_." He said the spell again.

Arya sighed, relaxing a little as she stopped shivering. "I want to know."

"You know what they say—experience makes the best teacher. There's a reason I'm good at what I do." Durza gently ran a hand through Arya's hair, drying that too. "There—that should be fine."

"Thank you. Who was it?"

"Can't you guess?" Durza said. "I worked for the Empire."

"The elves would never—"

"Maybe they don't, but the Varden do."

"They would have killed you," Arya said. "And you don't know where their stronghold is. You couldn't have been their prisoner."

"It wasn't at their stronghold," Durza said. He traced the long scratch on his sword with one finger. "And as I said—it doesn't matter now. That's over and done with."

Arya leaned back in the long grass. "If you know what it's—what it's like…how could you do that to someone else?"

Durza shrugged, his eyes cold. "I swore an oath of loyalty to the King; I did what he asked of me."

"This isn't what he wanted you to do," Arya pointed out. She still wanted to know just why Durza had suddenly decided to stop serving the King.

Durza grimaced. "That oath…was made under false pretences. I don't consider myself bound by it any longer."

"What pretences?" Arya said. She doubted Durza would actually tell her, but she had to ask.

Durza sat in silence for a moment. This was not something he wanted to talk about, or even think about. He had willingly served the man who murdered Carsaib. The bond between master and familiar was similar to the bond between dragon and rider; to betray even the memory of that bond was unthinkable. And he had, knowingly or not.

But…

"There was someone…important. To me. He was killed."

A pause. Arya kept silent, fearing he would stop talking if she interrupted.

"I…there was a dragon, I thought—the elves ruled the Riders. So…"

"You thought we killed him," Arya said softly.

Durza ran a hand over his face. "It was Morzan."

Morzan…Arya shuddered. The first of the Forsworn, second in power only to Galbatorix… "I'm…sorry," she said, hesitantly resting a hand on Durza's shoulder; she vividly remembered his reaction the last time she had tried to comfort him.

"I don't need your pity, Princess," Durza said. But he didn't push her away.

They stayed like that for a while, not speaking. Arya didn't really know what to say. But at last she stirred. "We still don't know how to enter Mount Helgrind."

"We'll just have to…figure it out when we get there, I suppose."

"We could really use a horse," Arya said, looking out across the flat ground at the mountain. It looked awfully far away at that moment.

"We couldn't bring him down that terrain," Durza said. "Tornac would've killed me if I crippled one of his horses…"

"Tornac?" Arya said absently, still gazing at Mount Helgrind, thinking of what awaited them inside.

"He helped train the King's soldiers. He was also the King's horse master—Tornac's horses are…unusual."

"I noticed," Arya muttered, remembering how unusually talkative Durza's horse had been. Then something occurred to her. "Was?"

"He's dead," Durza said flatly.

Arya winced; she kept bringing these things up, didn't she? "Will we get there in time?" she said. Best to just change the subject.

"We'll be fine—it's not too far," Durza said. He was hunched over, arms crossed tightly over his chest in an effort to stay warm. Even with dry clothes, it was still a cool night. "Goddess, I hate the cold…"

It made sense, Arya reflected—she remembered him saying he had been a fire spirit. And it _was_ cold, with the wind coming off the lake. The long reeds and grasses on the bank provided some cover, but not enough.

"Here," she said, moving over and leaning against Durza.

"…you don't have to. I'll be all right," Durza said, giving her an odd look.

"I'm cold too, you know."

"If you're sure…"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Arya said, curling up a little more tightly. The wind was picking up.

"I wouldn't think you would want to touch me."

"Are you planning to hurt me?"

"Of course not. We're allies now."

"Then I don't see a problem."

Durza shrugged. "If you say so." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling his cloak around both of them.

They huddled together in silence, hidden by the long grass on the banks of the lake, trying to get at least a little sleep before the journey in the morning. The wind swept across the water, touching them with chill fingers.

It would be a long night.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brom and Roran crept through the hallway, searching for any sign of Eragon. They hadn't walked far before they heard giggling from a room up ahead. They crouched on either side of the room's door.

"That must be them!" Roran muttered to Brom.

Brom nodded fearfully. He didn't want to go near the Sues, but Eragon needed them. "On the count of three?"

"Right," Roran said. "One…two…THREE!"

He and Brom burst through the door, sword and hammer held high. But before they could rescue anyone, they were met with a horrible sight.

Eragon and his Sue, Estelena, were engaged in…

Roran gave a strangled sob. Brom looked away, trying not to vomit.

"That's just wrong," Brom muttered. "No one can bend like that!"

"There you are!" Estelena said, in a sickeningly cute voice. She giggled again, playing with a lock of her black-and-gold hair. "I know someone who's just _dying_ to meet you, Rory-kins…"

"Rory-kins!?" Brom said. "Roran, come on—we've got to attack!"

But to his horror, Roran was standing slack-jawed, staring at the Sue.

"Brom. Run," he said with the last of his sanity.

"But—I can't leave you here!"

"Rory-kins, get rid of that dirty old man!" Estelena commanded.

"Yes," Roran said, and he lurched forward.

"Dear gods, they've made him monosyllabic!" Brom said. "Roran, please, speak to me! In more than one syllable!"

"Die," Roran said, swinging the hammer from Subieko's garage.

Brom turned and fled. This was too much for him to handle alone—the power of the Sues was more formidable than he had thought. And as he ran down the hall, hoping to reach someone who could help him before it was too late, he was followed by a high, cold giggle.

Durza, meanwhile, was creeping down the steps to the basement. Due to the influence of the Sues, the basement had changed in appearance and become a medieval-style dungeon. Durza cringed as he tiptoed past the various torture implements, but he didn't turn back. He had to face down the Sues and help save the story, and his fellow characters.

Aha—there she was! Arya was sitting in one cell, which oddly enough had steel bars. Subieko had warned them to expect illogic, though, so Durza put it out of his mind.

"Psst—Arya!"

"Durza?" Arya said, looking up. "What are you doing here?"

"Subieko sent me to rescue you," Durza said, opening the lock on the cell. It was a simple sliding bar. "Brom and Roran are going after Eragon, and everyone else who escaped the Sues is guarding the story."

"Sues?"

"Those _things_," Durza explained. "Now come on, let's get out of here!"

"N-n-n-no!" came a soft voice from behind them. Durza and Arya spun to face this new threat. There stood a waif with long, pale blond hair and overly large blue eyes. She was surprisingly timid, unlike the other two creatures.

"Who are you?" Durza said. She hadn't been with those other two…

"I—I'm Raeyenne," the girl said, cringing. "You have to go away—I'm guarding that elf!"

"Look, kid, I don't want to hurt you," Durza said, feeling a little guilty for scaring this poor child. She couldn't possibly be a Sue—she was so feeble. "Just let us go, and we won't have to fight you, okay?"

"Die," came a voice, and Roran came lumbering down the stairs, hammer in hand.

"Eeeek! Rory-kins, protect me!" cried Raeyenne, bursting into single tears.

"Oh no—she IS a Sue, she's controlling Roran!" Durza said, backing away. "What do we do?"

"Stop whining," Arya said, rolling her eyes. "We can take Roran."

"You don't understand—that thing is dangerous!" Durza said. "There's no telling what could happen, we've got to run for it!"

_I don't think so_, came a voice in their minds.

"Please tell me that's Saphira, coming to help us," Arya said, her face suddenly very pale.

_I'm Ohen-Briam, Estelena's dragon!_ said the small black-and-gold dragon, leaping out from hiding. They were trapped!

"Uh-oh," Durza said.

"I think maybe you were right," Arya said, swallowing hard. Now they couldn't run…and they couldn't fight the power of the Sues. Arya felt her normally strong will collapse, and she sank to her knees. Beside her, Durza also fell. The Sues were taking over.

"We're done for," Durza said, clinging to Arya.

"I hate when you're right," Arya said, clinging right back.

Holding onto each other in pure terror, the two waited for the end.

Elsewhere, Subieko, Angela, Orik, and Elva were guarding the story. No one was quite sure what had happened to Nasuada, but they all feared that the Sues had taken her.

"Remember, guys—no matter what happens, we can't let them get the laptop!" Subieko said.

Together, the group waited behind the barricade they had constructed in front of the door out of various bits of furniture. Waiting for the third Sue to arrive…

And the house echoed with the bone-chilling sound of giggling.


	34. Mind Rape

Author's Note: Ehehehe...yeah, I know I promised this chapter like a week or two ago, but at least I got it up within the month, right? ...right? (head droops) Sorry...I make no excuses--just some writer's block on it. I'm not sure how well it turned out, sooo...I hope it's all right. (bows)

There are only 4 more chapters, as currently planned, and I know what happens in them, so they should be coming out at least reasonably regularly now.

Other stuff...warnings for this chapter: some icky violent-ness at the end...but you could probably guess that from the chapter title. Nothing graphic, though.

Well...please enjoy the chapter!

Subieko

Chapter 31: Mind Rape

Subieko shook her walkie-talkie, scowling. "Darn it, why isn't anyone reporting in? I knew I should've changed the batteries…"

At that moment, someone started pounding on the barricaded door. "Subieko! Subieko, let me in, quick!" It was Brom!

"What are you waiting for? Move the furniture!" Subieko said, hurriedly starting to tug aside some of the chairs. The other characters helped as well, and soon Brom was safely inside the room with them.

"What happened, Brom? Where's Eragon, and Roran?"

Brom shuddered. "It…it was horrible. They got Roran…I barely escaped…"

"We'd better try to contact them," Subieko said, grabbing Brom's walkie-talkie. "Hello? Anyone there?"

Roran's walkie-talkie had long since been smashed with his hammer in a fit of Sue-induced rage, but Durza's was still working.

"Subieko? Is that you!?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Help! We're doomed! Roran and the Sue will kill us both!"

"Where are you?"

"In the Sue's lair, in the dungeon!"

"This house doesn't have a dungeon."

"It does n—" With a crash, the walkie-talkie shut off.

"Uh-oh," Subieko said, looking around at the remaining characters. "The Sues are warping reality! You stay here and guard the story—I'll go rescue Durza and whoever else is in the…dungeon." She ran out the door with nothing but a lantern flashlight in hand.

Brom, Angela, Orik, and Elva watched her go. "I have a bad feeling about this," Elva muttered. But before anyone could react to this ominous portent, the door swung open once more.

"Hah! That dumb girl forgot to block the door again!" said Amowiel, flipping her insanely long hair over her shoulder. Because it was so long, however, it got stuck, and she had to push it the rest of the way down her back. Hastily regaining what dignity she had, she turned back to the characters.

"Now…give me the story!"

"N-n-n-no!" Brom said.

"Right—the dwarves will never submit to you! Helzvog smite all Sues!" Orik cried.

"Indeed," Angela said. "We won't allow you to perpetuate your hideous monstrosities on us!"

There was a blank pause.

_She said we won't let them do these awful things to us,_ Solembum mentioned, awakening from his nap.

"Oh—right!" Brom said.

Elva said nothing. She was busy vomiting all over the floor, sickened by the mere presence of the Sue.

Amowiel advanced slowly, a fiendish light in her unnatural eyes…

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon and Murtagh picked their way through the rocky mountain valley on foot; they had long since dismounted their horses, not wanting Tornac or Makar to break a leg on the rough terrain. It was slow going, but caution was best. It was caution that had kept Eragon alive in the mountains of his own home.

Home…this journey through the Beor mountains was making Eragon homesick. It reminded him all too much of his hunting grounds on the edges of the Spine, just outside Carvahall. Saphira was subdued as well, feeling his distress with him and walking beside him, her wings drooping. All of them were exhausted.

"You're sure this is the right way?" Murtagh asked, not for the first time.

Eragon didn't blame him—losing their way could be deadly in these mountains. But he _was_ sure. Murtagh might be more experienced than him in many, many things, but this Eragon knew. Tracking, hunting, pathfinding—he had been doing it for years, living by those skills. And he did not appreciate having them questioned.

"I said, I'm sure," he grumbled, biting back an angry retort. Murtagh had no way of knowing how experienced Eragon was, after all. No point in starting a fight.

Murtagh made a noise of assent, and they continued on in silence, their weary feet often slipping on loose stones and getting caught in the thick underbrush. The trees were thick in the mountains, hardy pines and firs that could survive the cold winters. Eragon was glad the winter months were past, or he and Murtagh would be in serious trouble.

They had walked in silence for some hours when Murtagh grabbed his arm. "Wait—do you hear that?"

Eragon stopped, and a silence fell without the sound of their feet crunching through the brush. Softly, so softly, he could hear…the rush of water.

"That's the river Brom told me about—we just have to follow that till we find a waterfall!" Eragon said, feeling a surge of fresh energy at the thought that their destination was close at hand.

Murtagh nodded, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. Eragon was sure that he must be worried—Murtagh still wasn't entirely confident in their plan. But there was nowhere else to go.

"Come on," Eragon said, and they set off again. Saphira stretched her wings, then padded along as well. Eragon could feel her frustration—she couldn't fly with these thick trees all around them.

It didn't take them long to find a wide, slow-moving stream, and they turned their course to follow it, hoping to reach the Varden before nightfall.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"My Lord, I'm telling you, there's something out there!" Orik said. He was standing before King Hrothgar and Ajihad, although it was to Hrothgar that he was really paying attention. The dwarven warrior's loyalty was to the dwarves first, the Varden second.

"Our scouts have seen nothing," Ajihad said, frowning. The Varden had regular patrols through the area around the Varden's stronghold, but still…it was impossible to watch everywhere.

"If Orik says there is something, then there is something," Hrothgar said firmly. His people had been raised up out of the mountains by the gods long ago; human trackers were no match for them. Situations like this were exactly why the dwarves ran their own patrols.

"We found tracks, and they were heading right towards us," Orik said. The scouts had only just returned, and as soon as Orik had heard their report, he had gone to the King. It was Hrothgar who had informed Ajihad.

"How reliable are these scouts?" Ajihad said. When the two dwarves bristled, he held up his hands placatingly. "I don't mean to question their honor. But we must be certain. Is it possible that these tracks were made by animals, or perhaps that they were older tracks, or even tracks from other Varden scouts?"

"No, Lord Ajihad," Orik said. "The men I sent are all skilled trackers, familiar with the area. They were very clear—the tracks are recent. Horses and humans, and…something else. Some kind of animal. We couldn't identify it." By 'we,' Orik meant the dwarves; he personally hadn't seen the tracks, but he trusted his men's words.

Ajihad sighed. The Varden couldn't afford to take chances. "Very well. I'll send some men to follow them. If they seem dangerous, they will be captured and brought here for interrogation."

Hrothgar nodded. "And I shall send some of my men, as well."

Soon enough, they would know whether these were merely innocent travelers wandering the mountains, or something far more sinister.

-o-o-o-o-o-

There it was again—a sound, so small that at first Eragon had thought he was imagining. But no one who hunted in the Spine and lived to tell the tale ignored his instincts, and Eragon's instincts were screaming that something was wrong. Were they being followed?

_Maybe just an animal?_

Eragon gave a mental shrug in reply. Saphira had a point; it might just be some animal, hiding out of sight in fear of the humans. But…

He glanced at Murtagh, wondering if he had noticed the sounds too. But if someone _was_ following them, he couldn't risk speaking to Murtagh about the sounds. Then whoever or whatever it was would know that Eragon had heard them. And Murtagh wouldn't let Saphira talk to him mind-to-mind…so what could he do?

A few minutes passed in silence as they walked before Eragon had an idea. He walked a little closer to Murtagh, just a touch behind him, until he saw a good spot. There was a large rock in his path. He could easily have avoided it…if he had wanted to.

Instead, Eragon clumsily tripped over it, grabbed onto to Murtagh for support, and dragged them both to the ground.

Murtagh cursed, rubbing his side. "You all right?"

Eragon wasted no time. He grabbed Murtagh's shoulder to hold him still. "I think someone's following us!" he hissed in Murtagh's ear.

Murtagh's eyes widened slightly, but he gave no other sign of surprise; he, too, knew that they had to make sure their stalkers thought he and Eragon suspected nothing.

"I'm fine," Eragon said in a normal voice, getting up and brushing himself off. "We must be close, I can hear the waterfall."

"Mm," Murtagh said, loosening his sword in its sheath. Whoever was following them would surely attack soon. "Hopefully we'll reach it before nightfa—aaagh!"

"Murtagh!?" Eragon cried in shock, catching his friend as he staggered. There was an arrow protruding from Murtagh's shoulder.

_Look out!_

Eragon looked up, but not in time to avoid the hammer that came down on his skull. He struggled to stay conscious, but blackness started to overtake him. The last thing he saw before passing out was a short, stocky man in armor, holding a war hammer…

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Helzvog's hammer!" Orik cursed. The scouting team had just returned, prisoners in tow. Two humans, two horses, and…

A dragon.

Ajihad looked just as shocked. "It can't be," he said softly, his eyes wide as he stared down at the blue creature.

"It is," Hrothgar said, his face grim. "But was it our egg?"

"It must have been," said one of the two bald men standing beside Ajihad. They were the Varden's chief magicians, known only as the Twins. Where they came from and what their names were, no one knew. "The scales are said to match the egg's color."

Hrothgar nodded, scowling. The Dragon Riders had never been entirely trusted by the dwarves, and Hrothgar had not been sorry that neither the Varden nor the elves had ever found a rider for their stolen egg. And now, even worse, some stranger was the rider. Whose side was this new rider on?

The other Twin bent down to examine the blond boy's palm again. "The gedway ignasia. We had never seen it before…"

"What do we do now?" Ajihad said, leaning back against the smooth rock wall of the room. The prisoners were locked in a chamber below Tronjheim for now; their horses had been moved to the Varden's stables.

"We must interrogate them," the Twin beside Ajihad said. "They could be agents of Galbatorix, for all we know. It was Ambassador Arya who had the egg last, and she was captured. Who knows what happened to the egg after that?"

Ajihad nodded. If the egg had passed through the King's hands…if he had found another rider…the Varden were in worse danger than ever. "You, my magicians, will interrogate them when they awaken. You are not to penetrate their minds unless they refuse to answer your questions."

"Orik will stay as well," Hrothgar said, giving Ajihad a look that brooked no argument. "This matter concerns my people as well as yours."

"Very well," Ajihad said. "I must discuss this matter with my council."

"And I with the Clans," Hrothgar said. He followed Ajihad out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Orik sighed, tugging absently at his beard. He did not like the bald magicians, and did not trust dragons or their riders. But what his commanded, he would do.

Now they just had to wait for their captives to wake up.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon awoke to considerable pain. His head was throbbing, and his body felt terribly sore. The last thing he remembered was warning Murtagh…then…something had hit him in the head…a man with a hammer…or had it been a man? It was hard to remember…

"This one's waking up," came a deep voice somewhere off to his left. Eragon struggled to open his eyes, but the bright light of a lantern overhead made him shut them again almost at once.

"Waise heil," said another male voice at his right. The pain in Eragon's head receded, and he felt less stiff and sore. He slowly opened his eyes, although they watered at the brightness. Someone moved the lantern aside, and Eragon could see three men standing over him.

One was short and stocky, like the man who had hit him with the hammer. He had a long, red beard, and on his belt was an axe. His hands were thick and powerful, much more than a man of the same size. Was it a dwarf, like in the old stories?

On his other side were two tall, slim men with bald heads and slender fingers. They wore long robes, and they carried no weapons that Eragon could see.

"Waise heil," Eragon heard again, and he turned his head to see Murtagh waking up as well. But…

"Where's Saphira?" Eragon said, struggling to sit up. His hands were bound behind him. "Where is she!?"

"The dragon? She's here," the dwarf said, jerking his thumb behind him. Eragon raised his head up as far as he could and saw Saphira curled up unconscious behind the dwarf. She, too, was bound so that she couldn't move.

"Where are we?" Murtagh said.

"We will ask the questions," one of the bald men said, stepping forward. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

Murtagh tried to give Eragon a warning look, to tell him not to speak, but it was too late. "My name is Eragon, and this is my brother, Roran. We were trying to reach the Varden."

Murtagh groaned softly. There was no way to know if these people could be trusted, and now Eragon had given them away. At least he had remembered their cover story about them being brothers.

"Why?" said the man.

"We're fleeing the Empire," Eragon said. "Please—help us!"

"Shut up!" Murtagh burst out at last. "They might _be_ the Empire!"

"We're not, lad," the dwarf said, taking pity on them. "You've reached the Varden, right enough—but what happens to you next depends on what you tell us."

"Silence," the bald man said, shooting the dwarf a dark look. "We are in charge of the interrogation."

"There is no choice," the other man said. They looked so similar that Eragon thought they must be twins. "They may be lying—we must."

"Agreed," his twin said. "You—Eragon, was it?"

Eragon nodded.

"To be sure you are telling the truth, we will look into your mind. If you are honest, you have nothing to fear. If you try to resist…" He didn't have to finish.

Eragon gulped. Go into his mind? But if he didn't let them, they might all be killed.

"Only to see if he's lying," the dwarf growled. "No more."

Eragon snuck a quick at the dwarf, and saw that he was glaring at the two men. Maybe he would help them.

"Sit still," one of the men said, and he put a hand on Eragon's head.

Eragon cried out as he felt a sudden presence inside him, forcing its way in, penetrating his thoughts, his memories—his _mind_. It rushed quickly through, glancing at everything, looking at nothing closely, but leaving its mark everywhere. It was a dizzying whirlwind of color and sounds as the presence dug through his mind, searching into every corner, plowing memories and thoughts haphazardly aside.

"Stop, stop!" he cried, not even knowing what he was saying, only knowing that he could not stand this any longer. His mind was his, private, no one had a right to do this—he did not want this man in there—did not want the man's mind to touch his, to cover his own mind, his inner self, with a stranger's touch—

At last the presence faded, and Eragon sagged, panting and sweating, his whole body shaking. He felt strangely polluted, a stranger to himself; he was ill, nauseous, his body violently rejecting the lingering presence of the intruders. Eragon doubled over, vomiting, purging himself, but still he felt dirty and violated.

"Well?" the dwarf said. He was staring at the twin men, but he rested a comforting hand on Eragon's shoulder. Eragon appreciated the gesture, but he couldn't help flinching away; at that moment, any touch was more than he could stand.

"He is…telling the truth," the man said, shrugging. He turned to Murtagh.

"W-wait—no," Eragon said, forcing himself to sit up, to speak. "If…if I'm telling the truth…then you know…you can trust him…he's with m-me…"

"Perhaps he has lied to you," the man said. "We must know."

"NO!" Murtagh cried, struggling pointlessly, trying to get away from the man who approached him. "Get away from me—you can't—aaagh!"

The man pressed a hand to Murtagh's hand, gripping his hair and holding him mercilessly in place. Murtagh thrashed about, struggling to throw off his attacker, but the man's twin grabbed his shoulders, he couldn't move—

"No," Eragon sobbed. "Let him go!" He felt ill all over again, watching this happen to Murtagh.

But in this, Murtagh was more experienced than Eragon. He fought back, blocking his mind as he had been taught, trying to force the intruders out. The bald man grimaced, redoubling his grip—the two struggled, both panting with exertion, neither gaining the upper hand—

But Murtagh was alone, and his attacker was not. The man's twin came to his brother's aid, and Murtagh screamed in pain as the two battered down his defenses and ransacked his mind.

At last they released him, and Murtagh collapsed, shuddering violently.

"M—Roran," Eragon said, remembering just in time that Murtagh's identity was a secret. He struggled to move a little closer to his friend, to offer some comfort, but he with his hands bound, he couldn't even help Murtagh get up.

The twins were leaning on each other, gasping for air as they rested. But soon they stepped forward again. "He—he is Morzan's son! A servant of Galbatorix—a spy!"

"But—no!" Eragon cried. "He's not! He fled—he's on our side—"

"This one is telling the truth, you said," the dwarf said, glancing between the twin magicians and the captives.

"Then Morzan's son lied to him. We must inform Ajihad—have this one"—he kicked Murtagh—"put somewhere secure." The two men left the room, leaving the prisoners alone with the dwarf.

"All right now?" he said to Eragon. "I'm Orik. Come on—Ajihad will want to see you…and we'll find a healer, to see to your dragon." Orik grimaced; he didn't like the idea of helping a dragon, but it had to be done.

"But what about—"

"He lied to you, lad," Orik said, pity softening his expression. "I know it's not easy. Come on…"

Orik cut Eragon's bonds and pulled him to his feet. Eragon staggered, struggling to get feeling back into his arms and legs, but he managed to stay standing.

"Saphira—"

"Akh Gunteraz dorzada! I'll have a healer fetched, you'll see her again soon! None of the Varden will harm her." He placed a hand over his heart. "I swear it in King Hrothgar's name."

Eragon hesitated, looking at Saphira's still form, but he knew the dwarf would not relent. "…all right." He turned to follow the dwarf out the door; the sooner they found a healer for Saphira, the better.

"Wa…ait…"

Eragon half-turned back. Murtagh had pushed himself up onto his elbows, and was staring beseechingly at Eragon.

"I'm…not…"

Eragon had felt the magicians go through his mind. If Murtagh _had_ been lying, surely they would have found it. Then Murtagh…really was a traitor. An enemy.

"Pl…ease…Er…agon…please…!"

Eragon turned away and followed Orik out the door. He didn't want the man he had thought was a friend to see his tears.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Amowiel smirked, her lips unnaturally red, her skin a freakish tan that was somehow simultaneously pale. The characters scattered around her shielded their eyes from the abomination. They had all been defeated by Sue Power.

Brom groaned weakly. "N…no…not the story…I don't…want to die…"

"I don't want my race to be defiled!" Orik cried, struggling to rise. He failed miserably.

"This is a ghastly predicament," Angela mumbled.

Solembum had gone transparent; the Sues weren't completely sure which character he was. _No…I don't want to disappear…must…maintain…cynicism…!_

Elva just vomited dejectedly.

"Stupid dummies," Amowiel said in her usual articulate way. "We're like, way too strong for you."

"At least the grammar hasn't gone yet," Angela said.

"What do u no, u stoopid wich!" Amowiel said. The characters cried out in pain at the horribly mangled sentence.

Smirking again, Amowiel strode out, taking Subieko's laptop with her.


	35. You Got Sue'd

Author's Note: Shocking, I know--updating so quickly! My winter vacation is officially over, though, and classes start again on Monday, so the next update may be a little late (less writing time and all). But never fear, it will come!

This is an...erm...entirely out-of-story chapter. The three Sues and their dragons are borrowed with permission from alsdssg's brilliant fic "Why Canon and Fanon Don't Mix". Go read it. Urgently. It's hilarious.

A brief explanation of grues: back before there were fancy graphics for video games, there were text adventure games. You would type in the action you took, and the game would tell you what happened, describe the setting, etc., all in plain old text. The early Zork text adventure games featured monsters known as grues. If you went into a dark place without your lantern switched on, you would be likely to be eaten by a grue. (yes, this actually is relevant to the chapter. ;;;)

Text adventure games are quite fun, and if you're an Eragon fan, you can find a fun Eragon-themed text adventure game at www(dot)alagaesia(dot)com/game . Just replace the (dot)s with periods (since doesn't display web addresses properly). It doesn't have any grues, though.

Next chapter will be the real story again, with Eragon's group at the Varden...hope you enjoy this chapter!

Subieko

Chapter 32: You Got Sue'd

"Hiyah!" Subieko cried as she raced into the dungeon. A horrible sight met her eyes: Roran was coming towards Durza and Arya with his hammer raised to strike, a dragon was menacing them on the other side, and a blonde waif of a Sue was watching the whole thing.

"Roran, don't go to the dark side!" Subieko said. But another dragon came out of the shadows to stop her. It was Magdeleniana, the red-haired Sue's green dragon!

_get awai from the story, u stoopid grl!_ it said in some strange mix of poor spelling and chatspeak.

"Aaaagh—not bad grammar!" Subieko said, clapping her hands over her ears. It didn't actually help, since dragons spoke mind-to-mind, but she tried. "I'll never forgive you for mangling my native language!"

"Rory-kins, she's gonna hurt me!" Raeynne cried, shrinking back in fear.

Subieko felt a moment of pity for the sub-Sue, who could have been a real character with a little work, but the feeling soon faded when Roran turned on her.

"Uh-oh…I probably should've thought this through a little better…" Subieko said, trying to dodge around Roran. Luckily his reflexes were just short of a zombie's, so he missed her completely. So there _were_ advantages to the Roran-is-dumb fanonism!

_She's the author_, said Ohen-Briam, Estelena's dragon. _If we get rid of her, the story is ours!_

"Stay back!" Subieko cried, thinking fast. "Or I'll…I'll…I'll use logic on you!"

The Sues gasped in horror. Logic was one of the few things they feared. "You wouldn't dare!" Raeynne said.

"Oh yeah?" Subieko said. "It doesn't make sense for a medieval dungeon to have steel bars of a type which could only be made with modern production methods and technology! And it doesn't make sense for a medieval-style dungeon to be in the basement of an ordinary house built in the 80s!"

Raeynne fell to her knees in pain. "Nooo…stop…"

_Weve got 2 retreet!_ said Magdeleniana.

Ohen-Briam nodded. _But we'll be back, authoress…and the story will be ours!_

The two dragons grabbed Raeynne and Roran (or Rory-kins, as he was now being called) and flew off. This, too, made absolutely no sense, since they were in the basement, but common sense was something Sues knew very little about.

Subieko ran through the dungeon, which was changing back into a basement now that the Sues had left it. "Are you two all right?"

Durza and Arya breathed sighs of relief. "We made it…"

Arya shuddered. "Ugh…I still feel strange…"

Subieko frowned. "It must be the Sues…describe the feeling to me," she said, pulling out her writing-first-aid kit.

"I…I feel like I'm stupid, and in love with Eragon, and have an older sister…"

Subieko nodded. "I see, I see…I think we need to apply some canon." She pulled a pack of band-aids out of her bag. "Here—let's put some of these canon band-aids on. It'll stop the infection from getting any worse.

"What about me?" Durza said. "I feel…fine."

"That's because the Sues are using post-Eldest canon—you're dead to them, so they haven't bothered changing you…we've got to reach the others!"

"But how can we kill those things? They're too strong!" Durza said as the three got up and prepared to leave.

"Listen closely, guys," Subieko whispered; there was no telling who—or what—might be listening. "There are only four things that Sues fear: canon, logic, good writing, and slash."

"Slash?" Arya said, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Basically, guys snogging," Subieko explained. "Sues don't like anyone to steal their chosen men. If it's a rival, they can just eliminate her, but slash? That confuses them to no end. They don't have the brain power to understand it, so their heads explode."

"Ew," Durza said. "That sounds like it might get messy."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," Subieko said firmly. "If we can get Murtagh and Eragon to make out, the Sues will surely be destroyed!"

Arya and Durza both stared at her, looking rather disturbed.

"What? It's the perfect solution! Their worst nightmare!" Subieko said.

"But…they're brothers," Arya said.

"That doesn't matter to Sues."

"But the Sues took them," Durza said. "They won't help us."

Subieko shrugged, rather put off by their reluctance. "Fine, I'll think of a different plan. Now come on, let's try to find some weapons to use against the Sues."

The three began digging through the junk in the basement. At last, they had found their chosen weapons, such as they were. Durza had his yo-yo; Arya had a bottle of bubble solution and a bubble wand; and Subieko had her hardcover copy of Eldest.

"…it'll have to do," Subieko said at last. "Come on—the story is in danger!"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Amowiel and her sister, Estelena, were grinning identical Sueish grins. Subieko's laptop was before them, the document containing the story ready and waiting.

"Lyke, that dumm grl wasnt gonna put me wit Taggy-hunny!" said Amowiel.

"i no, right?" Estelena said. "And she wasnt gonna put me and Erry-Munchkins 2gether!"

"well just have 2 fix the stry rselves," Amowiel said. Their grammar and spelling was deteriorating with every passing second.

"Awesome!!!111111" Estelena said. The two began to type, and the world changed around them…

_Murty and Gon-Gon wer lookin fer there tru luvs, Amowiel and Estelena. But their was a dumm grl and a greasy smeely dwarf and taht prudish hussy Nadudi tryin 2 stop tehm. So tey had 2 stop teh dumm peple wit ther awesome powerz!!!111_

Elsewhere, Murtagh and Eragon suddenly realized that they had to find and destroy Subieko, Orik, and Nasuada at once. The Sues had completely forgotten about poor Angela, Solembum, and Elva, but that was probably lucky for the three characters in question. Brom had also been completely discounted, as he was supposed to be dead.

"Murtagh, I must find Estelena!" said Eragon.

"Yes, and I must find Amowiel!" said Murtagh.

"But first we must kill Nausada, Orrk, and that dumb girl messing up the story!"

"Yes," said Murtagh. "But what about that stupid dipshit hussy, Arya?"

"We'll worry about her later," Eragon said. "Our true loves will want to kill her themselves."

"You are right, Eragon!" said Murtagh. "Then let us go!"

The two walked off, becoming more and more cardboard-like with every passing second.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Elva, you've got to wake up—we need to get out of here!" said Brom, shaking the child. Angela was trying to bring Orik around, but to no avail. Solembum had vanished entirely.

"It's no use," said Angela. "Those monstrosities will eradicate us if we don't seek an egress immediately!"

"…Angela…?" said Orik, blinking dazedly.

"How ever did you know it was me?" Angela said, smiling in delight.

"You're the only one who could say something like that and actually understand it."

"There's no time for that," Brom said, hefting Elva onto his shoulders. "We've got to get out of here and find some way to fight the Sues!"

The four characters fled the room, heading for a more secure location. A place so terrifying that even a Sue wouldn't dare enter…

Subieko's brother's room!

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya and Durza crept down the hall, searching for Eragon and Murtagh. The group had split up: they were going to find Murtagh and Eragon and restrain them while Subieko thought of a plan to defeat the Sues once and for all.

"Wait—do you hear that?" Arya whispered, cupping a hand around one of her pointed ears.

"Yeah…I think so…"

"Someone's coming this way! Quick—here's what we'll do…"

Moments later, Eragon and Murtagh strolled down the innocent-looking hallway. As they passed a half-opened door, bubbles suddenly filled the air, blinding them! Stumbling forward as they flailed their arms, trying to disperse the bubbles, the two characters tripped over Durza's yo-yo string and toppled to the ground.

"Perfect," Arya said, smirking.

"Now what do we do?" Durza said, tying the unconscious main characters up with the yo-yo string. "How do we get them back to normal?"

"Subieko said we should restrain them while she gets the story back—we'll have to find somewhere to hide."

"But where?" Durza said.

The two thought for a moment. Where was a place that they could easily defend, with some way to keep Murtagh and Eragon captive? And then it came to them…

"The bathroom!" they cried in unison.

"We can tie them up with spare towels!" Durza said.

"And there's only one door—we can barricade it easily!" Arya added.

They shook hands on it and set off, each carrying one of the poor Sue-i-fied men.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Subieko crept down the basement stairs again. It was in the hallway leading to the garage that she would find it. The one thing that could save them from the Sues…

Her walkie-talkie was still in her pocket. Brom and Durza both had their walkie-talkies as well; when the time came, she would warn the others. The Sues, of course, would have no idea.

There it was—the fuse box! Subieko opened it up and began adjusting the wires.

"Good thing I only have to break it—I have no clue how this thing works…"

Pulling out her hardcover copy of Eldest, Subieko hefted it in one hand. It would be perfect for destroying the fuse box—it was quite heavy.

"Time to contact everyone," she said, turning on her walkie-talkie.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Back! Back, Sues!" Brom cried, poking at Amowiel and Estelena with a coat hanger. The two Sues were attacking their hideout.

"We'll never let them in!" Orik cried, swinging the trash can at the Sues. The room didn't have much in the way of makeshift weapons.

"You Sues are blemishes on this narrative! My brave comrades and I shall make short work of vanquishing you unnatural abominations!" cried Angela. Her excellent grammar and spelling, combined with the unusual words she used, made the Sues writhe in pain. Sues, as a rule, have very limited intellects.

Brom's walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life. "Brom! Brom, are you there?"

"Subieko!?" Brom said.

"Yeah, it's me! Are you guys all right?"

"For now," Brom said. In the background, Orik bellowed a war cry as he whacked Estelena over the head with a bookend.

"Guys, I've got a plan. When the lights go out, just stay still! No matter what happens—_don't move an inch_!" Subieko said. "Got it?"

"But why—"

"No time, Brom!"

"All right, we've got it."

"Great! Just hang in there a little longer!"

Amowiel smirked. "Dumm morons. Taht stoopid grl wont stop us! R dragonz will get her!"

"Right!" Estelena said. "were not scared of anyhting!"

Brom shuddered. He hoped Subieko would hurry…

-o-o-o-o-o-

Meanwhile, Arya and Durza were holding the door against the assault of Roran, their former fellow character.

BAM. The door suffered another hit from the hammer, shaking wildly. Durza and Arya leaned against the door, trying to stop it from opening.

"We can't hold it much longer!" Durza said, bracing himself against the sink.

"What else can we do?" Arya said, glancing at Eragon and Murtagh, who were bound and gagged in the bathtub.

At that moment, Durza's walkie-talkie activated.

"Durza, Arya, are you there?"

"Little busy, Subieko!" Durza said.

"It'll all be over soon. Listen, when the lights go out, don't move! You can't move at all! Okay?"

"If we don't move, the Sues will get through!"

"It'll be fine—just trust me!"

"Fine," Arya said. "Just hurry!"

-o-o-o-o-o-

In the basement, Subieko was about the smash the fuse box and put out the lights. But suddenly, she felt a presence behind her…

_Not so fast!_ Ohen-Briam said.

_Yeah!_ Magdeleniana ejaculated. _Were not gonna let u do taht!_

Subieko winced at the poor spelling and grammar. "Oh yeah? Well take THIS!" With a cry of fury, Subieko slammed her copy of Eldest into the fuse box. Sparks flew everywhere, the lights flickered…and died.

All over the house, the occupants were suddenly standing in the dark.

As soon as the lights went out, Subieko froze. The two dragons, however, didn't have the brains of a rock, and foolishly kept walking forward.

In the shadows, two faintly glowing red eyes appeared…

-o-o-o-o-o-

Brom, Orik, and Angela froze where they stood when the lights went out. The Sues came forward, and although the characters felt the instinctive urge to run, they remained stock-still, trusting Subieko's plan. There was nothing else they could do but wait.

"U r finished!" Amowiel cried, as she and Estelena charged forward.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The lights shut off, and Durza and Arya stopped moving at once. The door burst open, and Roran charged through, followed by Raeynne. Although the two unmoving characters were sure that any moment a hammer would smash them to bits, they didn't move. Their author hadn't led them astray yet. …well, not much, anyway. Well, at least not as badly as the Sues.

"Die!" Roran bellowed, and raised the hammer.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Just as the dragons were about to close their jaws on Subieko and end her writing for good, they shrieked in pain and vanished. Grinning, Subieko switched on her old Swiss Army flashlight. The bulb was dim, but it was enough. Under its light, the creature that had eaten the dragons fled.

"Grues," Subieko said, grinning triumphantly. "Gets 'em every time."

With that, she used her authoress powers to repair the fusebox, and the lights came back on just in time.

All over the house, the light-hating grues fled, their appetites having been sated by foolish (and very tasty) Sues.

And the story was saved.


	36. Ajihad

Author's Note: I...I apologize from the bottom of my heart...this is ridiculously late! Also: I won't have internet access until probably September 1 or so...which means the next chapter will (hopefully) be out in early September. But! That chapter will have Murtagh in it! After that is more Durza and Arya, and then (as of current planning) the end of the fic. So...I might actually finish this fic after Brisingr comes out...so maybe ReEldest (this fic's sequel) will actually be posted in a timely manner...!? It would be out-of-character for me, I know, but...I'll try to do so. Thanks for your patience, readers...also, I'd just like to say a very special thanks to Era Daven and Dianavelii, who, despite starting to read the fic when it already had so many chapters, went back and reviewed from the beginning. I am in awe...thank you! And thank you to all you reviewers and readers...you're far too kind! One minor note: I realize I previously called my laptop 'PC', but PC kinda died, and the new laptop's name is Gigo, after GIGO (garbage in, garbage out), a computer saying. So...yeah, it's not a completely random change. Well...no warnings for this chapter, so...I hope you enjoy, and sorry again about the rather ridiculous delay!

Chapter 35: Ajihad

Murtagh groaned, wondering why he couldn't seem to move. And why he was wet. And why he was...tied up in a bathtub!?

Needless to say, Murtagh was not pleased.

"Hey--I think they're coming around!"

That was...Durza's voice? Was _he_ the one who had tied Murtagh up in the bathtub? Oh, there would be hell to pay for this...

"Are they normal?"

Arya? She was in on it too!? It was hard to be an anti-hero, Murtagh reflected. Everyone was out to get you. You let your guard down for one second, and the next thing you know, you're tied up in a bathtub...

"Were they _ever_ normal?"

And now they were insulting him. Great. Just great. Could this get any worse?

"Mmmph! MMMPH!"

Of course it could. He could be tied up next to Eragon.

"Take the gags off," Arya was saying. "We need to make sure they're de-Sue-ified.

Murtagh felt the strip of cloth blocking his mouth fall away, and he took a deep breath. He regretted it rather quickly, as his face was unfortunately next to Eragon's feet. That guy needed to bathe more often...

"Well? Are they normal or not?" Durza said. He and Arya were leaning over the bathtub, looking anxious for reasons Murtagh was not sure he wanted to know. There seemed to be a rather large gap in his memory...

"Why the hell am I tied up in a bathtub!?"

Durza blinked. "That...sounds pretty normal."

"Good," Arya said, sighing. "Now we can stop babysitting them..."

"I'm still waiting for an answer," Murtagh grumbled as Durza untied him.

"It's a long story," Arya said. "Ask Subieko, it's probably her fault."

Murtagh was about to reply when there was a gasp beside him. Eragon had been untied as well...just great...

"Why? WHY? Why was I tied up? I'm the hero! I'm supposed to tie up villains, not the other way around!" the young dragon rider wailed.

Murtagh shut his eyes. He was beginning to get a headache. "Look on the bright side...some guys beg their girlfriends to tie them up."

SMACK. Just what he needed...Eragon and Arya had both slapped him. Now his headache was even _worse_.

"Don't talk about my girlfriend like that!" Eragon said.

"I am _not_ his girlfriend!" Arya said.

Murtagh just shook his head. It was going to be a long, long, long day...

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon lay on the thin blanket the Varden had given him, staring up at the low stone ceiling of the small chamber. He and Saphira were alone, but it was only an illusion of freedom; Eragon knew that there were guards posted outside the door. The dwarf—he had said his name was Orik—had said it was for their protection.

There had been a time, not so long ago, when Eragon would have believed, when he would have been peacefully asleep, waiting for the coming audience with Lord Ajihad, the man Orik had said was the leader of the Varden. But that time was gone.

Eragon rolled onto his side with a sigh. Maybe it was the long weeks of fleeing from unknown pursuers, of being a fugitive. Maybe it was the knowledge that everything he had been sure was true was uncertain at best, and outright wrong at worst. Brom had told him to be cautious, Murtagh had said he was too naïve…it seemed they had rubbed off on him.

Murtagh. Eragon wanted to push his friend (or were they still friends?) out of his mind, but he couldn't. Murtagh…was a traitor. Serving the King. Maybe it had been a setup all along, maybe Murtagh had been in that prison in order to trick Eragon…but that didn't make sense. Or did it? Eragon had no idea; what did he know of politics and trickery? He was a farmer, a hunter, that was what he knew. That was all he had thought he needed to know.

Saphira cooed softly, sensing his distress.

"It's all right. I'm fine," Eragon said. But they both knew he was lying.

They had all left him. His parents, Uncle Garrow, Roran, Brom, now Murtagh…he had lost them all. His mother and father hadn't wanted him. He had run out on the only family he'd ever had. Eragon didn't even know where Brom was now, or even if the old man was still alive. And now Murtagh…

_I'm still here_, Saphira said, nuzzling his cheek. _Won't leave._

Eragon swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "…yeah," he whispered, hugging her tightly. "We're together." That much, at least, he knew he could trust.

They sat in silence for a while, taking comfort in each other's presence. It had been a while since they had been able to just stop, to simply be together and not be ready to run or fight at any moment. Eragon had almost forgotten what it was like to feel safe. But was he really safe with the Varden? That was where Brom had told him to go, and surely he wouldn't have sent them somewhere dangerous…

Light slipped into the room as the door swung open. Eragon looked up to see Orik.

"Come on, lad. Lord Ajihad is waiting."

Eragon took a deep breath, and with a reassuring nudge from Saphira, he stood and followed Orik through the caverns of the dwarven kingdom. Tronjheim, Eragon thought they had called it. He turned the word over in his mind; it was so different from the names of the places he had once been familiar with. Carvahal and the Spine, nearby Therinsford…suddenly the world seemed too large again, and Eragon turned his thoughts back to this Lord Ajihad.

Saphira walked close beside him, her usual curiosity muted by shared fear. Eragon wasn't sure he could have kept walking without her there; the darkness of the tunnels was stifling, the low ceiling made him feel like a vast weight was pressing down on him, like he was trapped, caged, suffocating—

_No fear_, Saphira said, brushing his legs with her tail.

_No fear_, Eragon said back, smiling in spite of himself. They were together, at least.

At last Orik stopped before a sturdy door with a torch mounted on either side and guards posted in front of it. The guards must have known they were coming, because Orik was quickly allowed in, with Eragon and Saphira following close behind. The door was shut behind them with a heavy thud, and Eragon found himself standing before the leader of the Varden.

Eragon's first impression was one of great power. Ajihad sat behind a low desk, bent over awkwardly in the dwarf-sized chair, his long dark hair concealing his face as he studied a piece of paper. He would have seemed tall even in a human dwelling, but surrounded by the smaller dwarven furnishings, he looked almost too large. His dark skin reminded Eragon of the traders he had sometimes seen in Carvahal, their merchant caravans hailing from Surda far to the south. Was that where Ajihad came from? He didn't dare to ask, or to speak at all. This was a man who commanded respect.

Saphira was far less interested in the human sitting before them, and took her time looking around the room. It was furnished simply, as the dwarves preferred; there some sturdy wooden chairs around the desk Ajihad was working at, and a few crates on the floor nearby, filled with all manner of things. The room didn't look very lordly to Eragon's eyes.

_Boring_, Saphira said to him, turning her eyes to the Varden's leader.

"I've brought the rider and the dragon, Lord Ajihad," Orik said, breaking the silence.

Ajihad looked up at last. His face was crossed with lines, and there were streaks of gray in his hair, but Eragon was sure he wasn't even as old as Uncle Garrow. Worry and care had made its mark on Ajihad.

At that moment Eragon realized that he ought to say something, or do something, and dropped into a bow. But in his haste he stumbled over his feet, and nearly fell.

"Sit," Ajihad said.

Eragon dropped into a chair, his face flushed in shame. More than ever, he felt as out of place as a snowstorm in midsummer. A poor farmer had no business speaking to a man like Ajihad.

"So you are the rider," Ajihad said, gazing intently at Eragon.

Saphira, annoyed at being ignored, scrambled onto the chair beside Eragon and sat up with an indignant cheep.

"And this is…"

"Saphira," Eragon said. His mouth felt very dry. "And I'm Eragon, your Majesty. I mean, your Lordship."

Ajihad simply nodded, his face betraying none of his thoughts. "Tell me how you came here, Rider Eragon."

Eragon glanced at Saphira, who sent a feeling of uncertainty. "Sir, what's going to happen to us?" he asked Ajihad.

"My magicians have confirmed that you are not servants of the Empire," Ajihad said. "Therefore, it is my hope that you will join us."

Saphira gave a sharp whistle, tossing her head. "She's right," Eragon said. "That's what we wanted to do all along—that's why we came here."

If Ajihad was surprised at this, he didn't show it. "How did you find the Varden?"

So Eragon told Ajihad about finding Saphira's egg while hunting in the Spine, about fleeing his home with Brom, about their separation at Gil'ead, and how he and Murtagh had crossed through the desert to reach the Beor mountains—and the Varden. Although he felt a twinge of guilt for deceiving Ajihad, he left out some parts of his journey; he couldn't bear to speak of Yazuac, and there was no need to say much about Carvahal, or all the things he and Brom and Saphira had spoken of. He also said nothing about Murtagh beyond the circumstances of their meeting.

"I see," was all Ajihad said when his story was done.

The silence stretched on as Eragon grew more and more tense. Did Ajihad believe them? Or…

Saphira stretched out her neck to give his hand a reassuring lick. A smile flickered across Eragon's face. She was right; it was pointless to think about what might happen to them when they couldn't do anything about it.

At last Ajihad spoke again. "Rider…I am sorry for the hardships you have suffered. It seems that fate has smiled on us, bringing you here with the dragon—the only dragon out of Galbatorix's control. Now, perhaps, we have some hope."

"So—we can stay?" Eragon said, his spirits lifting.

Ajihad smiled for the first time. "Yes, Rider. You are one of us now."

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief, and Saphira peeped happily. They had made it! At last, they had reached the Varden, just as Brom told them to, they were finally safe…

"But," Ajihad said, in a tone that made Eragon and Saphira look up in sudden apprehension, "There is one problem."

"You must leave Tronjheim, Rider Eragon...as quickly as possible."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Subieko patted her laptop reassuringly. "Don't worry, Gigo…the mean ol' Mary Sues are gone. It's all gonna be okay now…"

Across the room, Brom raised one shaggy grey eyebrow. "She's talking to inanimate objects again…d'you think the Sues permanently damaged her brain?"

"Actually, mine fellow oft-ignored secondary character, I think she started out that way," Orik said. He grabbed another pillow and propped himself up more comfortably. Now that the vile creatures were gone, they could finally relax for a while…

"Stupid characters, stealing my seat," Subieko muttered, shooting baleful looks at Brom, Angela, and Orik, who were happily settled on the couch. _Her_ couch. But then, they _had_ been severely traumatized by the Sues, so she supposed they deserved some rest.

"Whatever. We don't need the couch to write a good chapter, right, Gigo? Yeah, that's right! Let's do it!" With that, Subieko began typing once more.

_Are writers usually like this?_ Solembum said, opening one eye.

"I wouldn't know," Angela said, munching on a rather smelly toadstool—or frogstool, perhaps—that she had found in Subieko's backyard. "It's a nice change from young Chris, though. He's awfully sane for my taste."

_That's because your taste is atrocious_, Solembum said before snuggling back into the pillow he was sitting on, getting even more cat hair on it in the process.

"I take that as a compliment," Angela said, smirking just a bit.

On the other side of the room, Subieko ignored them all, muttering away under her breath to her understandably silent laptop.


	37. Trust

Author's Note: I can only apologize for the ridiculously long delay on this chapter. I had some trouble writing it...hopefully it isn't too bad. Next chapter is the second-to-last one, and contains Durza and Arya. Hopefully that'll be out at least before the end of the month...well, hope you enjoy.

Chapter 36: Trust

"We're getting down the end here, huh?" Durza said, throwing a few darts at the dartboard he and Arya had dug up in the basement. They hit the wall and bounced off.

"Seems like it," Arya agreed, throwing some darts of her own. She hit the board, at least.

"What do you think our characters will do next? We'll get in at least another chapter before the ending, right?" Durza said.

Arya scoffed. "Of course we will! Who wants to read about Eragon anyway?"

From somewhere in the house above, Eragon shouted "I heard that!"

Arya just rolled her eyes. Stupid main characters.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It hadn't been a full day. He was sure of that much, at least. It was a struggle to keep any sense of time in this dark cell below the earth, but he hung on with all his might. It was small things like this that kept a man sane; Murtagh knew that from experience.

His body still ached from having his mind ransacked; his arms were bound behind him, and he could barely feel his fingers. But Murtagh willed the pain away. He would not think about it, would not allow it to weaken him. He had to rebuild the walls around his mind; having them broken made him feel naked and vulnerable. They'd had no right…his mind was his own…

But it had looked like Eragon had gotten it even worse than him. But then, Eragon hadn't been trained to shield his mind…probably never had to. Murtagh had learned it when he was just a child; it was the only way to be sure your thoughts were your own. That was what life in the Imperial court meant. Eragon…

The look on his face when those magicians said Murtagh had lied to him, that he was a traitor…Murtagh had been helpless to protest. He had no proof of his intentions; that was the whole point of mind-probing, it was a reliable way to see what a person's real feelings were. But they had lied. Why had they done it? What was the point of it? Was it just because he was Morzan's son? Had they thought he might have somehow hidden the truth, that he really was a traitor? But they had broken through his defenses completely, Murtagh had felt it—he shuddered just thinking of it now. Then…why?

It had been a miracle that Eragon had trusted him in the first place, after finding out the awful truth—that he was the son of Morzan, the most feared of all the Forsworn. Murtagh had treasured that trust…it was something he hadn't felt in a long time. A friend. Like a brother, almost. And now…it was gone, just like that. The twin magicians were obviously high-ranking Varden members; Eragon would have no reason to mistrust them. Murtagh had no way at all to prove his innocence.

_Dammit…dammit! What am I supposed to do now?_ He couldn't stand feeling so helpless. But what could he do?

Nothing. Not a damn thing…

Murtagh closed his eyes and gave in to the exhaustion.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"And this is the dining hall," the young sorceress told Eragon, gesturing toward the half-open door to her left. Her name was Trianna, she'd said, and she was giving Eragon a quick tour of the places he would need to know how to get to within Tronjheim.

Eragon was dying to ask about a thousand questions—what kind of food did the dwarves eat? Did they grow it in the valley? Or did they ship it in from elsewhere? Where there dwarven farmers? Did they farm the same way people in Carvahall did?—but he felt strange and shy with this powerful, important person. He didn't want to pester her with his curiosity.

Saphira, of course, felt no such reservations. She had been cheeping with pleased interest throughout their tour, poking her nose into corners and eagerly showing Eragon whatever she found, from bits of dust to someone's lost bracelet. Eragon was glad she was enjoying herself; their travels had been so filled with danger. At least they were safe now.

Murtagh wasn't safe, though. Eragon was trying to keep his mind off his friend, but somehow everything seemed to remind him of the dark-haired man. Were they feeding Murtagh properly? They wouldn't hurt him, would they? Eragon wasn't sure it would be all right to even ask such questions. And shouldn't he hate Murtagh now? Those twin magicians had said he was a traitor, so that meant their friendship had all been a lie, didn't it?

They had traveled so far together. Murtagh had saved him from drowning at the Ramr River, had crossed the desert with him. They had argued and then made up, they had fought and run and lived by each other's sides. Eragon hadn't been close to any of the villagers of Carvahall; he had known them, but most of his time was spent with his family. He had been so happy to meet Murtagh, to have someone more experienced in the ways of the world with him on this crazy journey.

If it was really all a lie…

Eragon shook his head, blinking back tears. The thought that Murtagh had been tricking them all that time, that everything they had shared was just part of the deception, was too much. Saphira darted over to him.

_What's wrong?_

"It's nothing…don't worry," he whispered to her. Saphira was too big to ride on his shoulder now, so Eragon knelt and hugged her tightly. She gently licked his ear, still concerned for him.

"Thanks, Saphira," Eragon said, managing a smile. At least he and Saphira would always be able to trust each other.

"Are you two coming?" Trianna said, glancing behind her.

Eragon jumped to his feet; he had completely lost track of what Trianna was saying. Stammering an apology, he tried to force his mind to attention. It was hard to keep his thoughts away from Murtagh.

Trianna led them down the corridor. Eragon still hadn't gotten used to the sound of his footsteps in this underground city; it was a thudding, slightly hollow sound, and it made his stomach drop. Saphira was uneasy as well; she didn't like being so far away from the open sky.

"In here," Trianna said, holding open an iron-barred door for them. "I'll introduce you to Lady Nasuada."

The room was plain, holding a simple wooden table and several shelves of scrolls. Sitting at the table in a too-small chair was a woman with dark skin and a serious expression. At her side was a young girl with pale skin and dark hair. Her eyes flicked between Eragon and Saphira nervously, and she tugged on the woman's sleeve.

The woman placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I wasn't expecting you."

Trianna curtseyed, but her eyes didn't leave the woman's. "Forgive me, Lady Nasuada. I wanted to introduce the Dragon Rider and his dragon to you. This is Eragon and Saphira."  
Saphira growled, and Eragon hastily added, "She's not my dragon; I'm her Rider."

Nasuada smiled, and the lines of tension between her eyes cleared. "Is that so? I'll remember it. Welcome. I am Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad. This is Elva," she added, motioning to the girl at her side. Elva ducked her head, fidgeting.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?" Trianna said, a playful smile on her lips.

"Nothing that can't wait a little," Nasuada replied. Her voice was warm, and Eragon relaxed a little. He had been intimidated at first, but Lady Nasuada seemed quite friendly.

Eragon bowed. "Pleased to meet you, Lady Nasuada. Hello, Elva."

"I'm afraid Elva can't speak," Nasuada said as Elva looked away, blushing slightly. "The healers have tried, but…"

_We could help!_ Saphira piped up suddenly. _We have magic!_

"But we don't even know what's wrong!" Eragon said, startled. Seeing the odd looks Nasuada and Trianna were giving him, he added, "Saphira thinks maybe we could help Elva."

Nasuada seemed happy with this suggestion, and Trianna looked faintly impressed, but it was Elva's face that Eragon watched. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for the first time. A little unsure, but hopeful, Eragon thought.

"Do you want us to try?" he asked Elva.

Elva hesitated, twisting her skirt in her hands and shifting from side to side, but at last Eragon's patience was rewarded. She nodded.

"All right," Eragon said, then realized that he had no idea what to do.

_Magic_, Saphira pointed out, not very helpfully. _Like before. Just ask._

"I'll try," Eragon said, and went to stand by Elva's side. He placed a hand on her head and concentrated on the feeling of his magic. What should he say? What did he want to happen?

Elva couldn't speak. Should he say 'be able to speak'? But that might be too simple. He didn't know _why_ she couldn't speak, after all.

_She's closed up_, Saphira said, poking her nose at Elva's hands. The girl squirmed, but didn't push Eragon or Saphira away. _All closed up. Can't be part of the world because she's closed up._

Closed up. He could do something about that. Trusting that Saphira knew what she was talking about, Eragon said, "Be open to the world." He definitely felt something—his magic was doing something, but he wasn't entirely sure what. Helping, he hoped.

Elva sat straight up, a look of surprise on her face. She turned from one of them to the other, her hands at her throat, then hid behind Nasuada.

"I'm sorry," Eragon said. "I guess I couldn't help after all."

_Helped_, Saphira insisted in his mind, but Eragon hadn't noticed any change.

"Thank you for trying," Nasuada said politely. "I'm sure Elva doesn't blame you for not being able to heal her."

Eragon nodded, but he still felt like he had failed Elva. She had been so hopeful…

"I'm sure you two want to get some rest," Trianna said, glancing at Eragon and Saphira. "That's about all the places you'll need to know—can you make your way back on your own? I have some things I need to speak to Lady Nasuada about."

"Yes, thank you very much, Miss Trianna," Eragon said, hurrying out of the room as quickly as was polite. He needed some time to think, some time where he wasn't trying to act properly and not expose himself as a poor farmer rather than the Dragon Rider they all seemed to see him as.

Saphira chirped at him, nudging his hand.

"It's okay, Saphira. I'm just…tired." And worried about Murtagh. Except he shouldn't be worried, Murtagh was an enemy now…wasn't he? The magicians' spell couldn't be mistaken about something that important.

_Could be_, Saphira said, blowing a puff of hot air into Eragon's face. _Could be wrong. Our friend._

Eragon bit his lip. He _was_ their friend, he had done so much for them, they would never have reached the Varden without him…but..he had felt that spell. It had gone through his mind so completely.

_Murtagh's mind is different. Keeps people out. So, could be a mistake._

Eragon's jaw dropped. It…it was possible! If Murtagh had some way of keeping people out of his thoughts, then maybe…maybe they had just seen that Murtagh was Morzan's son, and jumped to conclusions! Maybe they had just assumed he was on Galbatorix's side, because they couldn't see into Murtagh's mind to the truth!

"Then—then maybe—"

_Still our friend_, Saphira said, finishing his thought. _Gotta find him quick. He's all alone._

That was right, Murtagh was all alone in this place, not knowing what was going to happen to him—they had to find him as quickly as they could. But…where?

There was a soft giggle behind him, and Eragon spun around, startled. He had thought he was alone; normally, he would notice someone sneaking up behind him. Any good hunter would.

Saphira was crouched by his side, ready to attack if anything tried to hurt Eragon.

"I think you'll find what you're looking for if you head that way. Take the second set of stairs you find," said a plump woman with curly red hair. She was pointing down the corridor with her left hand; a basket of mushrooms was in her right. A large, shaggy black cat was standing just behind her, its tail twitching from side to side as it watched Saphira.

"Huh?" Eragon managed to get out. Who was this woman, and how did she know he was looking for something?

"Go on—he's waiting!" the woman said, giggling again.

Eragon glanced down at Saphira, waiting for her opinion on this strange encounter.

_Worth a try_, she said, and that was enough for Eragon.

"Thank you," Eragon said, and hurried off down the corridor. Even if the woman had just been teasing him, it couldn't hurt to try.

Back in the corridor Eragon had just left, Angela doubled over with laughter. Solembum gave a disapproving sniff.

_That was very immature_, he said.

"Oh, do shut up," Angela replied, straightening her basket of mushrooms on her arm. "It was just too much fun not to. And the poor boy looked so worried, too."

_You just wanted to see the look on his face_, Solembum accused. _That dragon _glared_ at me._

"Very well. I'll make it up to you when we get back," Angela said, rolling her eyes. Solembum could be such a whiner at times.

_You mean--?_

"Indeed," Angela said, grinning. "Catnip."

Solembum's tongue flicked out in anticipation. _Hurry up! Time is wasting!_ he said, and hurried off ahead of Angela, who kept on at her steady pace, laughing uproariously.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon and Saphira crept down the wide stone stairway. Eragon could barely see ahead of him, but even thought the torches lining the walls were unlit, Saphira was easily able to guide them. At last, they reached the bottom. A single torch illuminated a thick door closed by an iron bar at the end of the corridor.

They had finally arrived, but now Eragon was hit by a wave of nerves. What was he going to say? He hadn't been able to stop the magicians from hurting Murtagh, or the Varden from imprisoning him. He had dragged Murtagh to the Varden when he didn't want to go. Murtagh had trusted him, and Eragon had broken that trust.

_Go in_, Saphira insisted, nudging Eragon with her snout. _He must be lonely._

Eragon nodded, took a deep breath, and made his way down the corridor to the door. With help from Saphira, he pulled the bar aside, grasped the handle, and opened it. Saphira stayed outside while Eragon went in. It wasn't her who was Murtagh's friend, after all. Not that she didn't like him, of course; he was kind to Eragon, so that automatically made him all right in Saphira's mind.

"Who's there?" came Murtagh's voice from the back of the small, bare room. He sounded…not frightened, exactly, but anxious.

"It's me," Eragon said.

Murtagh pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly closer. "Eragon? You…you came."

"I came," Eragon said, feeling stupid but not sure what to say. "Murtagh, listen, I—"

Murtagh cut him off with a tight hug. "Thank the gods." The agony of waiting, alone and not knowing his fate, was over at last.

Blushing, Eragon patted Murtagh awkwardly on the back. "Are…are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

Murtagh knew he was making Eragon uncomfortable, and that he should probably let go, but he was so happy to have another person to talk to. He had to hold on just a little bit longer, just to convince himself this was really happening. He hadn't expected to see Eragon ever again, not after those magicians had said he was a traitor.

"I'm not a traitor," Murtagh said, releasing Eragon only to grab his shoulders, making Eragon look him in the face. "I swear to you, I'm not!"

The desperation in Murtagh's eyes hurt. "I…I know. I believe you. I'm sorry I thought…"

"It doesn't matter." Oh gods, he believed him. He believed that Murtagh was still his friend, still loyal. Murtagh let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. His face relaxed, and he let go of Eragon's shoulders. "What about you? What's happened?"

"They let us stay. But they said we had to go somewhere—Ellesemera, I think—for some kind of training. Murtagh, we have to go to Lord Ajihad before that—we'll tell him those magicians were wrong, you're innocent—they'll let you out, I'm sure of it!"

Murtagh looked at Eragon's confident, hopeful face, and had trouble bringing himself to shatter all that. "Why should they believe me? Their magicians told them I'm a traitor."

"But you know how to shield your mind," Eragon said. "Saphira thought of it—she remembered that you protect your mind, so maybe those magicians couldn't get all the way in, and they just assumed you were a traitor. We'll tell Lord Ajihad that, he'll understand. Saphira and I will tell him how you helped us—he'll _have_ to believe us!"

Murtagh considered this. Eragon was the Dragon Rider the Varden had been waiting so long for. Surely his word had to count for something? And Saphira's word, the word of the dragon that had hatched at last…could they really afford to dismiss that?

He didn't want to get his hopes up. Murtagh didn't have much faith in the Varden, or in most people, really. But somehow, Eragon's smile made him feel like he just might have a chance.

"Let's do it," Murtagh said.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Why did I hug Eragon?" Murtagh said, reading the newly-completed chapter over Subieko's shoulder. "I'm way too manly to go around hugging people."

Subieko rolled her eyes. "You're in prison, Murtagh. You thought your friend hated you, and then you found out he doesn't. Of _course_ you hugged him!"

"I don't want to get hugged by Murtagh," Eragon chimed in. "And why don't I just go tell Ajihad to let Murtagh out? I'm the main character, they have to listen to me!"

"Maybe because I'm trying _not_ to make you a complete jerk?" Subieko said. "Just go bother someone else, I have to get this chapter posted. Otherwise the readers might hunt me down and do something awful…like take away my chocolate." She shuddered at the thought.

"Whatever," Murtagh said, stalking off with his hands in his pockets in a way that was totally manly and not at all like he was sulking. Definitely not.

"Hmph," Eragon said, stalking off in the opposite direction and refusing to think about getting hugged by Murtagh. Stupid author, putting that in. He didn't want a hug. Definitely not.

Subieko just snickered. Denial was so terribly entertaining.


	38. Heart of Darknes

Author's Note: As reader Tasha correctly pointed out, I made a mistake in the last chapter--at the beginning, I said Murtagh's hands were tied, but at the end, they suddenly weren't! My apologies. I haven't actually corrected it yet, as I haven't had time (well, okay, I was lazy and decided to write the next chapter instead of editing the last one), but I will...eventually. I think. I will strive to be more consistent in the future!

That said, here's the next chapter. After this is the epilogue, and then...ReEldest. The plot is _mostly_ sketched out, but I'm not sure how soon it'll be up and running--there's still a few parts that need more planning, because they don't all make sense at the moment. Heh. This chapter is also not as good as I had hoped it would be...I apologize. I shall strive for better quality in the future, but I just wanted to get this chapter finished and posted. I hope you enjoy it.

Small note: I did some research on symptoms of and treatment for venom, but didn't find much, so hopefully this isn't horribly inaccurate. Sorry if there's any mistakes.

Chapter 37: Heart of Darkness

"Would you stop fidgeting?" Subieko said. "You're distracting me!"

Durza sighed. "But it's finally my turn again! You took so long with Eragon's chapters…I thought I'd never be in the story again…"

Subieko blushed. "Er…sorry about that…"

"Forget him," Arya said, shoving Durza to the side. "I'm in the story again, and I've been waiting for months, so hurry up and get writing!"

With a small 'eep', Subieko turned to her keyboard.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Arya felt exposed, standing there at the base of Mt. Helgrind. Although they could see around them for miles and knew that no one was nearby, she still felt like someone's eyes were on her. Durza had suggested that it might be the dark gods the people worshipped; Arya suspected he was joking, but still, it made her nervous. The Ra'zac were inside that mountain, hiding behind the lie of gods and spirits, being fed by unwitting humans. Perhaps it was their eyes she felt.

"I think I found something," Durza called from where he was searching a few yards away. Since Durza had no idea how to enter Mt. Helgrind, they had been forced to search and hope they got lucky. And it seemed that they had.

"I thought I sensed magic," Durza explained when Arya came nearer. "So I checked—there's an opening concealed by a spell."

"What can we expect inside?" Arya said.

Durza shook his head. "I have no idea. The Ra'zac live here, but that's all I know. I suppose we're about to find out…" He glanced at her. "Are you ready?"  
Arya nodded, loosening her sword in its scabbard. "Let's go."

They ducked through what looked like solid rock, coming out into utter darkness. It was just as dark with eyes closed as with them open. Arya was about to cast a spell for light, but Durza grabbed her arm.

"Light will alert them to our presence. We don't know how close they are."

"I'd rather alert them than fail to see them coming," Arya snapped, futilely turning her head this way and that, trying to see. Even an elf's eyes needed at least a little light.

"Fine," Durza said. "Cast it."

Arya quickly spoke the words needed to form a small, reddish blob that shed a faint light but produced no heat. It hovered in her hand, letting them see ahead about two yards in all directions.

They were in a narrow rock tunnel; the ceiling was oppressively low now that she could see it. Arya shivered. She hated being unable to see the sky, and being in such a confined space was making her nervous.

"Come on," Durza whispered, starting to move forward down the tunnel. Arya kept pace with him, their steps seeming strangely loud in the silence of the mountain. The air was hot and close, feeling as thick as soup when she breathed it in. Behind them, the dark closed in, covering the entrance and trapping them in a tiny circle of dim, red light. Arya felt like an insect trapped in amber. How far had they walked? Were they making any progress at all? It was too hot, the tunnel too small, she felt dizzy and ill.

And then the air was abruptly cooler. The ceiling had abruptly vanished; they had come out of the tunnel into a wider cavern. The light was too dim for them to see much, but three other openings were visible along the rough walls. They were utterly dark, like gaping black mouths.

"Which way?" Arya whispered.

"I don't know," Durza whispered back. "Let's try the one of the left first."

They edged along the wall of the cavern rather than go straight across; it was best to keep their backs against something solid. A thousand years seemed to pass between each of Arya's breaths as they walked slowly, as silently as they could, towards the black opening. It was as narrow as the original tunnel. She took a few last breaths of the freer air in the cavern before following Durza into the passage.

Something about the place clogged her senses; some trace of ancient magic, some strange aura…Arya couldn't tell. A terrible smell drowned out every other sense, choking her. She and Durza stayed close together, reassured by the presence of another living being in this tomb-like place. It was so quiet…

Until something crunched under her feet. Arya jumped back, drawing her sword.

"Look," Durza said softly. Arya lowered her blade, looking down at her feet. She had stepped on a heap of bones…human bones. Flesh was still clinging to some of them; this was the source of the smell.

"Past sacrifices," Durza said. "Let's turn back—I don't sense anything in this direction."

Arya nodded; she didn't feel any traces of the Ra'zac either. They headed back to the central chamber, padding along through the stone passageway.

"Which way should we try next?" Arya said as they stepped forward into the chamber.

"We might as well try the central—what was that?"

Arya had heard it too; a faint swish of cloth against stone. She gripped her sword tightly, setting her back against Durza's. "I can't sense anything!"  
"Neither can I," Durza said grimly. "They must be shielding themselves…"

"What should we do?"

Durza closed his eyes for a moment—he trusted Arya to watch for any sign of the Ra'zac approaching—as he tried to think, to predict the enemy's next move. Why were they hanging back? Why weren't they attacking?

"Light," he said at last. "We need more light. Then we can attack."

Arya spoke a few words of the Ancient Language, and the cavern was flooded with brilliant white light, much clearer and brighter than the dim red light from before. The two Ra'zac, who had been standing just outside the circle of the old light, shrieked in pain.

Durza sprang forward at once, skewering the first of the Ra'zac while it was still stunned. He had expected Arya to do the same, effectively ending the battle before it had begun. The Ra'zac were used to darkness, and the light would blind them long enough for two killing strikes. Freeing his sword, Durza stepped back.

It was then that he realized Arya still hadn't moved. He risked a glance to the side; she was staring in horror at the Ra'zac, her sword loose in her hand.

Ah. That explained it. Durza had seen the Ra'zac before, after all; he had known what to expect. But Arya was seeing them uncloaked for the first time.

Almost human. That was the best description for them. Would have been human except for, used to be human but now, might have been human once but maybe not. That was the Ra'zac. Human faces, the mouths twisted by venomous fangs, human arms with slashing claws growing out where the hands ought to be, scaly patches on the sides to protect them from blows. Long, bowed legs for springing and running. Spines and scales. Galbatorix had created them from humans, made them to be his perfect assassins. Durza wasn't sure they had turned out so well, but it hadn't been his place to question.

"Princess, focus!" he yelled at Arya, moving to attack the remaining Ra'zac. It groaned and sprang forward, claws trying to catch his sword and wrench it away. He dodged to the side and came back slashing at the point between neck and chest where the scales were gone and soft flesh remained. Blood splattered across his face as he struck home.

"I can't," the Ra'zac said, and Durza briefly wondered why before striking at the joint between arm and shoulder. The joints were vulnerable, fleshy, human. He had to target carefully; a missed stroke could catch his sword in the spines, pull it away from him and leave him defenseless.

"I can't stop," the Ra'zac said as it slashed at him. Durza didn't parry; better to slide to the side and strike again. His blade glanced off a spine rather than striking a vital point. He is wasting time, he must end this.

"Make it stop," the Ra'zac said, rushing forward and nearly hitting Durza; as it was, he was struck a glancing blow by the Ra'zac's thick arm, and stumbled back.

"Princess, help me!" he said, struggling to bring his blade up when his arm was bleeding from where the Ra'zac's shoulder spines had pierced it.

Arya watched them struggle, trying to pull herself together. They were people. _People_. Not monsters, but people, suffering people warped by magic. They were in pain. They didn't want this. She had never seen anything like it in her life. Nothing could have prepared her for the horror of their unnatural faces, or the pain in their eyes.

The Ra'zac sprang forward with startling speed, knocking Durza back. The twisted creature followed up with a quick slash, striking Durza in the chest. Busy trying to keep his balance, Durza couldn't bring up his sword in time to block.

"Arya, do something!" he shouted, struggling to rise as blood seeped out of the wound.

The sound of her name snapped Arya out of her confused horror. The Ra'zac was cautiously approaching Durza, taking its time now that its prey had been wounded. Durza was backing up, trying to keep out of range for now, but that wouldn't last for long.

The Ra'zac raised its warped arm for a finishing blow, and Durza, knowing that this might be the last thing he ever did, brought up his sword. If he had to die, he'd at least go down fighting.

And then the Ra'zac toppled over, its head rolling across the cavern. Arya was standing there instead, a bloody sword in her hand.

"Took you long enough," Durza muttered, falling to his knees. The Ra'zac's claws were coated in venom. Had to get it out of the wound before it spread any further…and he had to stop the bleeding. The sword fell to the ground as he pressed his hands over the deep cuts.

"Let me see," Arya said, kneeling to examine the wound. The cavern stank of blood, both Durza's and the Ra'zacs', and she took deep, slow breaths to keep from being sick. This was nothing like the small skirmishes she'd been involved in before. "Waise heil," she said confidently, pressing her hands over the slashes. Durza willed himself not to scream at the pressure.

Nothing happened.

"Waise heil!" she repeated, drawing more power out, but blood continued to seep out from between her fingers. "I don't understand—it's not working!"

Durza gasped for breath, trying to stay as alert as possible. If he fell unconscious now, he might never awaken. "The venom…it's stopping the healing. You need…to remove the venom…first." Oh, Goddess, it hurt just to speak. And he was still losing blood.

"How!?" Arya said, frantically pressing down on the wounds, trying to slow the bleeding.

"Calm down," Durza said. Must not scream. That would only make Arya panic further. "The venom. It enters…through the blood."

"How does that help—"

"Shut up and listen," Durza said. "Your magic. Remove…the venom."

"I—right. All right," Arya said, taking slow, steadying breaths. This was no time to panic. The word for venom…she must know it, she must…but she had never really dealt with venom before, and the word wasn't coming, her mind was blank.

"I can't do it—I don't remember the word—"

"Improvise," Durza said. Damn it all, he wasn't going to die because she couldn't hold herself together. "Just do _something_." The room was starting to go dim and blurry.

Other words, other words…_think_, Arya was shouting at herself in her mind, _think, think, think! Hurry!_ But the more she struggled to come up with an answer, and fast, the more her mind was agonizingly blank.

A bloody hand grasped her wrist. Durza's face was twisted in pain from moving just that small amount, but he hung on. "Arya. Calm down. Just…let yourself think…breath…"

It was galling to be told to calm down by a man who was bleeding to death. But he was right. Arya shut her eyes, breathing as evenly as she could. Calm. She had to clear her mind. Just let herself think. Just let it come…

She opened her eyes. "_Destroying liquid, come out!"_ she commanded, holding her hands over the claw marks. A reddish fluid with hints of purple gathered around her hands, being pulled out of Durza's body by her magic. She made a flicking motion, and the glob of venom struck the wall behind her.

"Good," Durza said, his eyes fluttering closed. "Good…"

"Waise heil," Arya said, and this time, the terrible wounds slowly closed, the skin knitting together, the muscles becoming smooth and undamaged again.

Durza was barely conscious, but he felt the pain ease. He would survive, then. He tried to feel at least a little angry at Arya for nearly getting him killed, but somehow he could only manage to be glad she hadn't been hurt in the battle. Annoying…

"I healed you—you should be all right—what's wrong?" Arya said, feeling panic start to well up again at the sight of Durza not getting up, or even remaining conscious.

"Lost a lot of blood," Durza mumbled. "And the venom did damage. Give it some time…"

The last thing he registered before passing out was a worried pair of green eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He would wake up soon enough, Arya told herself. Of course he'd need rest after such a severe injury. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about…

She kept her sword on the ground beside her, just in case any other enemies were about. She didn't sense anything, but they hadn't sensed the Ra'zac until the last moment, either. Arya had dragged Durza to one wall; at least she'd be able to see any potential attackers coming. And so she waited, her nerves taut as she knelt on the ground with Durza's head on her lap. She had covered him with his cloak; she vaguely remembered that if someone was injured they should be kept warm. Damn it, she wasn't a healer; basic healing spells had always been enough before.

She had to stay calm. She was the only one in any shape to fight right now, so she had to stay in control and keep alert.

Part of her wondered why she was worried. They had worked together to kill the Ra'zac, but now that that was finished, they weren't really allies. But he had cared for her when she was ill, and she felt somehow honor-bound to do the same.

His face was flushed, and his skin felt hot; was it the lingering effects of the venom? He stirred, mumbling something in a language Arya didn't know. Delirious, maybe. She didn't know what to do.

"Shhh," she whispered, touching him gently. "Try to stay still." How long would this last? What should she do? Was there a spell to heal this? But Arya wasn't even really sure exactly what was wrong; she couldn't heal damage if she didn't know what exactly was wrong, not if the general healing spell had failed. She suspected this was being caused by what the venom had managed to do before she'd removed it. If she had gotten it all…could this be the effects of a mild dose? If it was…what did that mean?

He calmed when she touched him. Arya thought it was best if Durza kept as still as possible; if there was any remaining venom, that would help keep it from spreading. She sat with her back against the rock wall, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other gently stroking Durza's hair.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Durza woke up some hours later, still somewhat dazed, but not in any pain and looking mostly recovered. Arya almost could have cried in relief.

"You're sure you're all right?" she asked as they made the journey back across the plains towards Dras-Leona. They had waited until nightfall; they couldn't risk being seen.

Durza was tempted to ask her if _she_ was feeling all right; she'd been more worried than he had expected. But somehow he had a feeling that would only make her angry. "I'm fine, Princess. Your healing worked well." It was the closest he could bring himself to thanking her.

Arya was silent for a moment. "Before…during the fight…you called me Arya."

"My apologies," Durza said.

"No—I don't mind," Arya said hastily. "You can call me by name. If you like."

"Whatever you like, Prin—Arya."

Durza was forced to question his sanity when he briefly considered that nearly might have been worth it, just for that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"So? What happened in the chapter? C'mon, Subieko, let me read it!" Durza said, snatching futilely at the laptop.

"If either of you so much as scratches my poor Gigo, you're dead in the story _and_ outside of it. And I don't even care if that's not possible," Subieko said, putting her laptop gently down on a chair. "Read it or whatever, I'm taking a break." With that, she ran out of the room before they could start shouting at her.

"Finally!" Durza said, reaching for the laptop, but Arya snatched it out of his hands as soon as he touched it.

"You can read it when I'm done."

"But I had it first!"

"Oh fine, read it over my shoulder. Now stop whining and let me read."

There was silence as the two sped through the chapter. An even longer silence took hold when they were done.

"…I hope you know I would never take care of you. Never. Not even if you paid me," Arya said, pointedly not looking at her fellow reader.

"And I would never need your help in a fight."

"No, that part was totally accurate, except that I would never freeze up in a fight."

"Would so."

"Would not."

"Would _so_."

"Would—oh shut up, this is stupid," Arya said. "Listen, we can't let the others read this chapter. It's embarrassing."

"And Eragon would kill me," Durza added.

"And then he'd never quit whining at me," Arya said.

They quietly ducked out of the room to go find Subieko and get her to start the next chapter before anyone got too curious about theirs. Not because there was anything in it that had any relevance to them at all, of course. It would just make the other characters act annoying and jump to conclusions.

Of course.


	39. The Parting of Ways

Author's Note: Well...here it is. The final chapter of ReEragon. But fear not, the sequel, ReEldest, is in the works, and will hopefully begin posting...sometime next week. Possibly. There are a few plot kinks to work out still. But, thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, and enjoyed. I hope you enjoy the ending, too. (smiles)

Chapter 38: The Parting of Ways

"Move over, I want a good seat!" Durza said, trying unsuccessfully to shove Eragon aside.

"Shut up," he said. "This is the last chapter, and I want to make sure I get a good part! I'm the main character, I deserve it!"

"_You_ shut up," Arya said. "I want a good part to make up for that joke of a last chapter."

"I haven't even been in the story for chapters and chapters," Brom mumbled. "I want to be in the last one, at least…"

Subieko rolled her eyes. "Would you _all_ shut up? I'm trying to write, here! You're all in the chapter, okay? Now stop distracting me."

The characters obligingly shut up, if only because they were busy shoving and pushing each other around to get a better view of the laptop screen, and Subieko began to write the last chapter of the story they had begun so long ago.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eragon stood close to Murtagh, with Saphira pressed against his other side. He had never been on a ship of any sort before, and the dwarves' barge seemed impossibly awkward and heavy. Eragon had no idea how the thing floated, or how it moved, or anything. Murtagh had been on ships before, though, and he seemed confident enough. Saphira had no fear at all; _she_ would just swim if they sunk, as she had told him more than once while they were waiting to board. Eragon had resisted the urge to remind her that she'd never tried swimming before, and might be as bad at it as he was.

"Don't be so nervous," Murtagh murmured in his ear. "It's just a trip on the river. And the water is calm this time of year. We'll be fine."

It was hard not to grab Murtagh's hand for reassurance, but Eragon resisted. He felt embarrassed to be so out of place, especially in front of the dwarves, who were completely at home manning the ship.

Saphira had grown tired of standing around with the two young men, and began poking her nose around the barge, exploring it. The dwarves glared at her, but didn't dare say a word against the dragon, except for a few mutterings in their own language. They hadn't spoken much at all to the humans and the dragon. Eragon wondered if they had offended the dwarves somehow, but couldn't imagine what they might have done to inspire so much hostility.

Murtagh had some idea of what the problem was; he had been taught about the history of Alagaesia as a child, and remembered that the dwarves and the dragons had never trusted each other. It must be galling for them to have to ferry the dragon and Dragon Rider to the land of the elves.

He was more concerned about Eragon, though. He was unusually quiet, and his face was troubled. Murtagh was troubled by this. He missed Eragon's cheerful, curious side, but had no idea how to cheer him up. For now, all he could do was at least be there.

"We're off!" called Orik, who King Hrothgar had requested be sent with them to Ellesmera, on the grounds that the dwarves had as much stake in this as anyone. Orik was pleased enough to be off on a mission after long years of hiding and occasional guerilla strikes. Eragon seemed to trust the dwarf, but Murtagh wasn't so sure. He hadn't stopped the twin magicians from interrogating them. From separating them.

They would stop at the hall of one of the dwarven clan chiefs enroute to rest and restock their supplies. Murtagh was apprehensive; being surrounded by dwarves was not an especially safe thing for Eragon, or for Saphira either.

Murtagh was going to keep both eyes open for trouble. Eragon seemed to have a talent for attracting it.

The mountains swept past as the river carried them onward, towards a place that no one but the elves had entered in almost a century.

-o-o-o-o-o-

(You're late), Rashid informed them once they had finally gotten back up into the foothills of the Spine where they had left the horse.

"I got held up. Starting riots, nearly dying, things like that," Durza said dryly.

(I was living off of weeds.)

"Somehow, I think you'll survive," Durza said, checking Rashid over for any injuries. He seemed to be in good health, so Durza brushed off the tack they had left nearby and began resaddling the horse.

Arya watched, not sure whether she should speak. She would have to ask soon, there was no way of avoiding it, but…she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to her question.

Three words. Just three words, but she felt frozen, unable to speak them.

Where to next?

What answer did she want, and what answer could she expect? Durza had agreed to help her kill the Ra'zac, nothing more. Technically, they weren't allies, only enemies temporarily working together. She had every reason in the world to never see him again.

The Ra'zac had been Galbatorix's most feared assassins. And yet she and Durza had killed them and lived to tell the tale. They made a good team, and Arya wasn't sure whether she was happy about that or not.

At this point, she didn't even know where she should go next. Back to the Varden? That was where she had been trying to go when she'd been captured; it seemed like a lifetime ago. Or maybe she should head to Ellesmera, to tell the Queen what had happened to the egg, and to Arya herself. The Varden must have gotten intelligence of her capture, and her subsequent disappearance; they had no idea that she was free and well.

She wanted to return to Ellesmera, if she was completely honest with herself. She missed her homeland. She hadn't been back to see her mother in several years, what with various assignments for the Varden and ferrying the egg between Tronjheim and the elven settlements throughout the forest. Her mother might even fear that she was dead, that her daughter was lost forever. It had always seemed like there would be time later, time next year, next decade, whenever, to see her mother again. She had thought to do it when there was a gap in her duties. Everything had seemed so urgent, but now…it suddenly seemed terribly important.

But there was still a problem. She had no idea where Durza was planning to go next, but there was at least one place which he most definitely could _not_ go: Ellesmera. Arya wasn't sure she was ready to say goodbye just yet.

_He would be a valuable ally for the Varden—I could never have killed the Ra'zac alone. He has information we need. _Those were the only reasons. Arya refused to admit that she had gotten used to his company.

"Where will you go now?" Durza said, interrupting her thoughts and dragging up the very subject she had been hoping to avoid for at least a little longer.

But there was no point in delaying the conversation now. "I'm…not sure," she admitted. "What about you?"  
Durza shrugged. "It doesn't matter much now."

At that, Arya's temper flared up. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that? You could still help the Varden."

"I highly doubt the Varden wants help from the enemy, let alone from a shade."

"You're not their enemy anymore!"

"They don't know that."  
Arya rolled her eyes. "I'll write a letter for you. Go to the Varden and show it to them—that's proof enough, isn't it?"

Durza knew that this was a stupid idea. He knew that the Varden were unlikely to believe a letter written by someone who had not so long ago been the prisoner of the enemy. No matter what help he could offer the Varden, it wasn't worth the trouble he would have to go through to convince them to accept it.

Arya watched him, her expression one of fierce optimism.

_I'm an idiot_, Durza told himself, even as he nodded and dug through the saddlebags for some pen and paper.

Arya smiled at him with what might have been gratitude, and he couldn't bring himself to be angry at her. _A complete idiot_, he thought.

"You don't have a horse," he pointed out while she wrote. "Ellesmera is a good distance from here."  
"It's not so bad for an elf," she said. "You could probably do the same."

That was true enough; shades and elves were faster, stronger, and had greater endurance than humans. But it was still a long and treacherous journey through the wilderness.

_I've gone beyond stupidity into insanity._ "Take this with you," Durza said, digging a small, black box out of a pocket inside his cloak. "For good fortune."

Arya took it, looking puzzled. It was a black lacquered box, inlaid with letters in a language she didn't know. "What is it?"

"Something from the desert. Just keep it." There was little point in waiting any longer. "Safe journey, Arya," he said, holding out his hand.

"Safe journey," she said, grasping it with her own.

Neither of them moved for a moment, but then Durza turned to mount his horse and Arya went to start walking. They parted in silence, neither looking back as they grew farther and farther apart.

It was only after she had been walking an hour that it occurred to Arya to open the box Durza had given her. There was a simple latch made of copper, which she lifted with only a little trouble; age had made the metal rusty. She sneezed at the dust when she gently flipped open the lid; it must be quite old.

Inside was a pressed flower, a simple five-petal one. Its petals were faded from age, but a dark pink color still showed through, and the white throat at the center was only slightly yellowed. Arya vaguely recognized it as being called a desert rose.

Her steps dragged to a halt as she stared at it, her throat tight. At last she carefully shut the box again, tucked it safely into a pocket of her stolen soldier's tunic, and forced herself not to think about why he had given it to her as she kept walking.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The small room was utterly beautiful, fine without being gaudy, all of it delicate and ethereal and inhumanly lovely. Even though he was underground, Brom didn't feel closed in at all. A lamp made of elegantly crafted silver illuminated the smooth slate tiling of the floor, and the walls were covered with bright mosses. A little table, sung from the trees by magic, was there for him to sit at, reading or doing whatever he chose. No guest could have been more comfortable.

Brom held his head in his hands, despairing because he could not get out of the beautiful cage. Eragon was in terrible danger, and Brom was the only one who knew. But he had no way to warn Eragon. Again…again, as so many times before, Brom had failed.

He had gone to Ellesmera after parting from Eragon, hoping that the elves would be able to quickly find Eragon and get him safely to the Varden where he could be trained. He had been certain they would be as overjoyed as he was that the Dragon Rider had at last appeared.

They had smiled politely, escorted him to this charming prison, and left him there.

"Eragon…where are you?" Brom muttered, tugging at his beard. It had grown long during his captivity. "Oh, gods…please protect him…"

Brom knew that only the gods had any hope of hearing him now.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"That's _it_? _That's_ the last chapter!?" Eragon cried, outraged. "Once again, I acted all stupid! And nothing happened in the chapter! And you left all cliffhangers everywhere! This is terrible!"

"And what about me?" Arya said. "I'm just left walking off to Ellesmera! That's not a resolution at all!"

"And my part didn't even make any sense," Brom said.

Subieko rolled her eyes again. "Oh stop fretting. It's called a sequel, guys."

Everyone perked up. Then Brom thought of something.

"The readers are going to kill you, you realize. You ended the story just as you put in all the new plotlines."

Subieko smirked. "Oh, they won't get me. I have you guys to protect me, after all."

Eragon raised one intense eyebrow. "What makes you think we'll help you?"

Subieko shrugged, smiling innocently. "Oh, nothing. Just…you _do_ want to finish writing the story, don't you?"

A moment of silence. Then—

"We're with you all the way, Subieko! No angry readers will lay a finger on you!" Durza cried. Arya applauded next to him, and Eragon loosened his sword in its scabbard, nodding enthusiastically. Even Murtagh reluctantly got up so he'd be ready to do something.

"Great," Subieko said. "Now, about that sequel…"

And everyone leaned in to start planning.


End file.
